


Time Served

by blackchaps



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 88,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: Set after Toby‛s release and season seven in SVU. Toby struggles to deal with parole, and life has a few surprises in store for him, like Elliot.





	Time Served

******

Chapter One - I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.  
2 Timothy 4:7

‟Hey, Beecher!‟

Toby stopped in the long hallway lined with doors that led to courtrooms. He couldn‛t see anyone right off hand that he knew. Men and women in suits streamed past him. High heels clicked on the marble floor and every other hand held a briefcase. Cell phones seemed to be almost permanent appendages in several ears. Still, he didn‛t see anyone that sparked a memory.

‟Tobias Beecher?‟

Toby dug his shoes firmly into the floor because for a split instant he could feel the world revolving. He‛d told himself again and again that this wouldn‛t happen. The odds had been against it, but Lady Luck loved to fuck with him. ‟That‛s me. Can I help you?‟

‟Elliot Stabler.‟ Stabler didn‛t smile or stick out his hand or make nice. He hooked his thumb at a bench in an alcove. ‟Can we talk privately?‟

‟I have an appointment.‟ Toby did. He didn‛t have to lie. The world had settled into its normal place, and he saw a thousand tiny differences. The mirror was cracked. ‟Walk with me or I can give you my cell phone number.‟

Stabler fell into step beside him. He nodded, but didn‛t smile. ‟You give that away to anyone?‟

‟You‛re a cop.‟ Toby pointed at the obvious badge. He was trying to get his lungs to work fully again. This was a shock, but he wasn‛t going to show it. ‟If I can‛t trust you, I‛m in real trouble.‟

Stabler quirked an eyebrow at him. Toby stopped at the elevator and pushed the button. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and wished he could run away. Stabler waited until they were inside and the doors were shut. ‟Can we meet for dinner?‟

Toby managed not to gasp in surprise. ‟You‛re asking me out on a date?‟ He saw the flash of irritation, the shifty eyes, and he even noted the slight shuffle of nervous feet. ‟I‛m flattered.‟

‟No!‟

The elevator doors opened, and Toby exited quickly. He spotted his lawyer and waved. ‟Look. I‛m due in front of a judge. Being late is not an option. We can make out later.‟ He grinned at the combination of anger and chagrin that was on Stabler‛s too-familiar face. Quickly, he dug out a business card and handed it over. ‟Here‛s my number. Call me.‟

Stabler took the business card, but his lips were pressed tightly together. Toby turned completely away from him to focus on his lawyer. ‟Steve! Good to see you!‟

‟You stupid fucker! If we‛re late, you‛ll be fucked for another ten years!‟

Toby didn‛t argue with that exaggeration. He cast one look back at the imitation of the man he‛d loved so blindly. Stabler was already walking away. Chances were good that he wouldn‛t call.

Steve tugged on Toby‛s arm. ‟Pull your head out of your ass!‟

‟I like the dark.‟ Toby smiled. ‟I‛m ready to kill in there. Don‛t worry.‟ He pushed away a myriad of worries and emotions that he didn‛t want to deal with. Whatever Stabler had wanted, he could wait.

*********

Elliot went back downstairs. He crumpled the business card, but he didn‛t throw it away. It lay in his pocket in a ball, slightly accusing.

‟Detective Elliot Stabler!‟

Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. He‛d gotten back in time. When he‛d spotted Beecher, he‛d taken a chance - a risk - and it hadn‛t paid off, but at least he hadn‛t screwed up this court case. Casey Novak gave him a confident look as he settled into the witness box. She must be winning, and he set about to do his best to help her.

Much later, he leaned back in his chair, stared at the computer screen, and tried to make up his mind. He wanted some answers, but he wasn‛t sure he wanted them badly enough to hurt him.

‟How‛d it go in court today?‟ Benson asked quietly.

‟Novak won. He won‛t be bothering any more young boys in this lifetime.‟ Elliot hoped a few guys in prison took it upon themselves to teach the perv all about being ass raped. It wasn‛t all that much to ask. The thought only brought him back to Beecher again though, and he rubbed his chin. ‟You and John any closer?‟

‟Slogging through phone records is not my idea of police work,‟ she grumbled. He leaned, yanked his straw out of his soda from lunch, and stuck it in his mouth. It helped him think to chew on something. Beecher was a smartass ex-con. No doubt about that. It could be an act, but Elliot doubted it. The bravado hadn‛t seemed forced. Beecher had known about him. That also had to be true. There had been no shock or surprise on his face. Just resignation, followed by remarks that had been slightly inappropriate.

Elliot rubbed his face. Had Beecher gotten his parole set aside? Or had he violated it in some way? It was tempting to track the information down, but Elliot hesitated. He wasn‛t sure that he was going to call him.

‟You‛re lost in thought,‟ Benson interrupted him.

Elliot flipped the straw with his tongue. He knew it made her crazy. ‟Remember when I told you about my cousin?‟

‟Sure.‟ Benson didn‛t take her eyes off the phone records. She was a woman. She could multi-task.

‟I saw his cellmate today over at the courthouse. The one that they said didn‛t kill him.‟ Elliot raised his eyebrows as she was now looking at him. ‟I tried to talk to him, but he blew me off.‟

‟Does he know you want to hurt him?‟

Elliot grinned. ‟Obviously not.‟ He didn‛t want to hurt Beecher, just get him to confess. Tune him up and get his ass back in prison where it belonged. But Elliot wasn‛t sure. He was hesitating, and he didn‛t know why. ‟He knew about me. Not even a blink of surprise.‟

Benson had her head back in the phone records. ‟He doesn‛t deserve to be walking around in society.‟

Elliot agreed, but he felt off-balance now. He‛d met the enemy, and the look in his eyes had given him pause. Beecher might not have done it. Elliot dug out the business card and snapped open his phone. It wasn‛t that he wanted revenge, it was that he needed answers.

*********

Toby paced in the small confines of his room in the halfway house. It had gone well today, and he‛d find out tomorrow whether or not he‛d won. It wasn‛t as if he‛d asked for the moon. All he wanted was to get the hell out of this shithole. Nine months here had been completely unfair. He wasn‛t even able to see his kids! Angus refused to bring them, and Toby did his best to understand.

A hard knock on the door interrupted him, and he answered it immediately. Probably another damn search, but it didn‛t make sense to piss off his parole officer. His hand seemed to freeze on the knob, and he felt his jaw tighten.

‟What? No jokes?‟ Stabler brushed his coat back with one hand.

Toby‛s eyes flashed to the gun, and even though he knew he was being played, he swallowed hard. ‟Can I help you?‟

Stabler smiled, but it was patently false. Toby had seen enough of those fake smiles to know. Dark, blue eyes seemed to bore right through him. Stabler tilted his head to the side. ‟I think you can.‟

Toby still heard that dangerous voice in his dreams, and he took half a second to marvel at the wonder that was genetics before turning loose of the door and backing away. He wasn‛t inviting him in, but that badge gave him the right.

‟I don‛t want any trouble, Stabler.‟

‟Where‛s that jackass I was talking to earlier today?‟ Stabler‛s mouth still smiled, but his eyes were flat, deadly.

Toby listened to the quiver in his guts that told him that he‛d played it wrong. This was probably a great time to kiss ass. ‟I‛m sorry if I was rude. I was nervous about seeing the judge.‟

‟You are a liar. I knew it, but it‛s nice to see it confirmed.‟ Stabler hadn‛t crossed the threshold yet. ‟I asked your parole officer if I could speak with you privately, he said yes.‟

‟That was good of him.‟ Toby backed up another step. His legs almost brushed the bed. He wanted to snarl, but he had to play it cool. Stabler was a cop. They‛d talk, and he‛d leave.

‟An ex-con with business cards?‟ Stabler tossed it at him.

Toby didn‛t bother to catch it, and he watched it hit the floor. ‟I‛m looking for work. It seemed smart, but I guess not.‟

Stabler reached for his back pocket, and Toby felt his panic go up a notch. It had been stupid to never consider that Chris‛s cousin would want revenge. Stabler‛s face was a study in anger. It was clear now. He wanted to fuck Toby over.

‟Hands against the wall,‟ Stabler said softly and flipped the handcuffs.

Toby shifted into convict mode at the words. He wasn‛t proud of it, but he‛d learned his lessons well, and he hadn‛t had time to forget them. ‟Fuck you,‟ he said as he assumed the position. ‟Just blow my ass away and get it over with.‟

‟The walls are thin in this place.‟ Stabler patted him down, removed the cell phone, and tossed it on the bed. Toby resigned himself to a bullet in the brain. He probably deserved it. Stabler cuffed him tightly and took him out the door.

‟I should have run,‟ Toby said quietly. Skipping out on parole would be better than being dead. ‟I was sucked in by the confusion on your face.‟

Stabler said nothing, but he didn‛t turn loose of Toby‛s arm. Too soon, Toby was shoved into an unmarked sedan. Of course he hit his head. Stunned, he didn‛t notice where they were going. That old shit about his life flashing in front of his eyes was more true than not. He hoped Stabler had the decency to shoot him, and he hoped his kids never saw his body.

‟Did you bring a shovel?‟

‟Standard equipment,‟ Stabler said. He didn‛t look over his shoulder. Toby sighed. He was dead.

********

Elliot didn‛t take any pleasure in the stark fear he could see on Beecher‛s face. He only wanted to talk and since the jerk wouldn‛t have dinner with him, they‛d do this somewhere private. The halfway house was not an option - too many ears. He had been surprised at the lack of jokes and witty comebacks. Beecher had gone from smartass to scared shitless in record time.

‟I guess you thought I‛d never find you.‟ Elliot probed for a little information.

‟I had hoped not. It‛s a big city.‟ Beecher was resting his head. He was going to have a bruise. Elliot hadn‛t done it on purpose. He‛d been in a hurry to get away. He wasn‛t wasting his time on feeling guilty about it though. It might loosen Beecher‛s tongue. They were almost there, and he parked the car legally. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention tonight. He got Beecher out and started walking. The pier was deserted, as it should be, and he could almost taste the fear coming off Beecher‛s body.

Elliot stopped at the farthest distance from the shore and released him. They‛d talk here. Beecher could only swim back because he wasn‛t getting past. Beecher slowly turned to face him. Elliot didn‛t even consider taking the cuffs off. They were leverage.

‟Are you ready?‟

‟Just do it.‟ Beecher looked sick with the knowledge. ‟Make sure no one finds my body, okay? My kids have been through enough.‟

Elliot picked his next words very carefully. He‛d been thrown for a second by the mention of Beecher‛s kids. Christ, they must have gone through hell. ‟Do you deserve it?‟

Beecher‛s face twisted. He gulped in a mouthful of air. ‟Chris promised me that he‛d see me in heaven. I‛ll tell him that I saw you.‟

‟That won‛t get you out of this!‟ Elliot wanted to slap him for speaking as if he‛d cared for Chris.

‟You look a lot like him.‟ Beecher dropped to his knees and then sat down awkwardly. Maybe his body had given out from fear. ‟I should‛ve run.‟

Elliot nodded. He stared down at the man before him. Beecher was scared, but resigned to it. A lot of men would have jumped or fought or yelled for help. This ex-con hadn‛t. He‛d crumbled. Was that guilt all over his face? Stabler put his hands on his hips. He‛d loved his cousin, and he wanted answers, but . . . this was wrong. He was a better person than this. He hoped. In that instant, any taste for revenge drained away. It didn‛t seem worth it. Chris had made his own decisions - mostly. Elliot squatted down and took the cuffs off. Beecher rubbed his wrists, but made no move to get up. He still expected to be shot. That was obvious.

‟When Chris and I were kids, we‛d come here. Smoke a cigarette, tell a lie about tits we‛d seen, and laugh.‟ Elliot remembered it so clearly. It had been before he‛d learned about life. ‟My father and his mother were twins, but people thought that Chris and I were the twins.‟ He smiled slightly from the memories that were good. ‟Hard to believe that he‛s dead. Seems like yesterday.‟

Beecher shoved his long hair behind his ears. He looked as if he might make a break for it. ‟He always made it sound like no one loved him.‟

‟I did.‟ Elliot wasn‛t surprised at how quickly the anger came bursting back, and now it was stronger than before. He ached to hit him, hurt him, shove him down and kick him. ‟You killed him! Now stand up and take it like a man.‟

‟Shit,‟ Beecher whispered, but he got to his feet. ‟I don‛t suppose you‛re interested in the truth?‟

Elliot unclenched his fists. He had lost so much, and losing Chris had forced him one step closer to eating a bullet. Was this man responsible? The water lapped gently against the wood, and the moon shone brightly in the sky. The air was crisp with fall, and he shook himself slightly. He would not do this. No amount of grief condoned terrorizing this man. He rubbed his face and backed away.

‟Stabler?‟

Elliot had known dirty cops his entire life, but he never thought he‛d be so close to being one himself. Shame surged through him, and he hated the all-too-familiar feeling. ‟Just go home.‟

Beecher didn‛t move. ‟I can‛t now. I‛ll be in violation of my parole. They‛ll ship me back to Oz.‟

Elliot nearly smiled. That was all he‛d wanted - for Beecher to suffer some more. It had turned out remarkably easy to get his wish. ‟Good.‟

Beecher made a soft sound of what had to be pain. ‟The first time I was paroled, Chris wrecked it. He lied to me, and I went right back to Oz and him. This time, you did it. I can‛t believe it!‟

Elliot glared and got back close. ‟You don‛t deserve to be out! Chris is dead! And you did it!‟

‟I tried to stop him.‟ Beecher looked as if he might cry. ‟I‛m not going back. You can shoot me!‟

Elliot saw clearly the moment that the desperation turned to anger. He wasn‛t worried about his personal safety. Had Chris done it to himself? A board of inquiry had cleared Beecher, but that didn‛t mean shit in prison. Beecher‛s family had money. They‛d made it go away. Elliot looked out over the water again, lowered his head, and prayed for guidance. God had a way of blowing him off lately, but it was worth another try. Everyone was gone. Even Benson had walked away. Sure, she‛d come back, but not because of him. The job was under her skin, not him. He had to stay focused here. Chris was dead, and there was going to be some kind of payback.

‟When I was growing up, I had Chris. No one else understood. No one. Are you going to stand there and lie to me?‟ Elliot turned fast and saw him flinch.

Beecher clenched his hands together. ‟I begged him to leave me alone. Stop manipulating me. Stop thinking he owned me. He kissed me and threw himself over the rail. I tried to catch him. I did.‟

Elliot had listened to people lie for years, and that was the truth. He didn‛t much like it. ‟So, you didn‛t kill him, but he‛s dead because you blew him off.‟

Beecher took three fast steps, and they were in each other‛s face. He growled, ‟Yes.‟

The pain of that honesty was all over Beecher‛s face. He was guilty, and he knew it. Elliot was glad to see it. He narrowed his eyes. ‟Serve out the rest of your time in Oz, and I‛ll walk away.‟

‟That‛s condemning me to death.‟ Beecher didn‛t back down. ‟Get over the guilt you feel because you didn‛t keep him on the straight and narrow and take me go back to my shitty room in the halfway house.‟

‟How long are you there?‟ Elliot would not affirm or deny his guilt to this low-life skel.

‟Nine months. This morning, I petitioned to be released early. I can‛t even see my kids!‟ Beecher threw up his hands.

Elliot could tell that Beecher missed them, but there was a larger issue here. ‟Nine months isn‛t that long. You should be in Oz!‟

Beecher whipped away from him, going out to the farthest point on the pier. ‟Damn you,‟ he whispered.

Elliot wiped his forehead. This hadn‛t gone as he‛d expected. He should have remembered that life was never simple or easy. Chris had probably killed himself. But that didn‛t excuse Beecher. Elliot raised his voice. ‟Did you get out on a technicality?‟

‟The entire prison system is collapsing under the weight of too many prisoners. Non-violent offenders are being shown the door. I was paroled under strict conditions.‟ Beecher‛s voice echoed off the water.

Elliot could believe that. He made a concession. ‟Fine. Stay in the halfway house for your nine months, and I‛ll leave you alone.‟

Beecher turned. ‟You just backed down.‟

‟That‛s my last offer.‟ Elliot was bluffing, but he had on his best poker face, and he wasn‛t worried.

Beecher lowered his head and laughed. It was definitely laughter. ‟Here are your choices: take me back or shoot me.‟

Elliot lifted his chin and almost against his own volition, his hand drifted to his gun. He was tempted to do just that. Chris deserved to rest peacefully. He‛d screwed up, but his mother and his priest had put him on the path, and Beecher had put the last nail in the coffin.

‟Chris loved you, didn‛t he?‟ Elliot didn‛t say it loudly.

‟He said he did.‟ Beecher shoved his hands in his pockets. ‟We couldn‛t have a life. No matter how many times we forgave each other, we were never going to have a life!‟

Elliot took his hand away from his gun. He wasn‛t that kind of cop - that kind of man. ‟Give me nine months.‟

‟I forgave him everything! And he fucked me over. You aren‛t getting a damn thing!‟

Elliot watched him shout. Beecher was angry too. Well, he‛d been right about one thing. Chris had been in Oz to stay. No parole. No life outside. Elliot had hated that. He shrugged. ‟If you won‛t give it, I‛ll take it. Get in the damn car.‟

Beecher didn‛t look relieved. He walked to him, turned, and put his hands on his head. ‟Cuff me or I‛m going to try to kill you.‟

Elliot cuffed him. He never ignored that kind of honesty. Back at the halfway house, he deposited Beecher at his door and left him.

********

Toby made it to the bed before collapsing. He landed on his cell phone, but he didn‛t care. Air seemed to come back into his lungs, and he knew he was screwed. Stabler would find a way to fuck him over. It was coming. Oz might be safer than New York with Stabler around.

‟Fucker,‟ Toby whispered. He tried to muster up some hate for Stabler, but it fell flat. Stabler had loved Chris too, and Toby certainly understood the need for vengeance. Why Stabler hadn‛t shot him was a mystery. It hadn‛t been compassion. Chris had talked a lot about his cousin. Toby felt as if he knew him, which was ridiculous.

Toby‛s cell phone rang. ‟Hello?‟

‟I got a call. We‛re to meet with the judge again at ten a.m. and for shit‛s sake, don‛t be late!‟  
It was Steve - high strung fucker.

‟Got it. Ten. I‛ll be there.‟ Toby clicked off before he said something rude. He got off the bed and went to piss. He‛d read and while away the hours. Sleep would probably be impossible. Time slowed way down over the course of the night, and he slept, but he woke up in a sweat. Chris had been breaking Toby‛s arms, but it had been Stabler that had broken Toby‛s legs. Toby washed his face, trying to catch his breath. God had been laughing His head off the day He‛d made two of them, and sending them both after Toby was nothing short of cruel.

When nine came, Toby set out for the courthouse. He took the subway and walked. He was worried, nervous, but surely the judge would be reasonable. Toby kept a sharp eye out for Stabler and breathed a sigh of relief when he made it there without spotting him. Steve was outside, pacing, and they went in together. Toby watched his heart fall right through the floor.

‟If you won‛t give it, I‛ll take it.‟

The words echoed in Toby‛s head. Steve opened his big mouth. ‟Good morning, Judge Allen. My client and I are eager to hear your ruling.‟

Toby watched Stabler. Stabler was gloating. He had already fucked it up. It was over. He‛d gotten a little revenge. Steve was still blabbing away, and Toby found a chair that faced Stabler and the judge.

Finally, the judge held up his hand. ‟The petition has been denied.‟

Toby saw the small smile on Stabler‛s face. He had to say something, but only one thing came to mind. ‟Shut up, Steve.‟

Steve fell silent. Stabler got to his feet. Toby had one chance, and he took it. ‟Judge, I‛m not going to contest this ruling, or protest that perhaps Detective Stabler is prejudiced against me, but if he is going to take such a direct hand in punishing me, I want to know what he‛s going to do to aid in my rehabilitation.‟

The judge‛s eyebrows went through the roof. Steve‛s mouth fell open, and Stabler seemed to freeze in place. Stabler was the first to find his voice. ‟If he‛s not rehabilitated, he shouldn‛t be out.‟

Toby nearly smiled. That was weak, and the judge knew it. Toby gently rubbed the bruise on his forehead for effect. ‟Detective Stabler has no motivations beyond revenge. He wants me back in Oz. I expected better from NYPD.‟

The judge frowned. He was buying it. ‟Detective, I believe Mr. Beecher has a valid point. If you are so concerned, you should be willing to do more than complain.‟

‟A man with his record doesn‛t deserve to walk the streets,‟ Stabler growled.

Toby wasn‛t going to attempt to argue that point. He had to keep talking. Keep pushing. ‟I‛ve been unable to secure employment. Perhaps, Detective Stabler could help me out. Doing nothing but sitting around the halfway house, watching everyone else get high, isn‛t much of a day.‟

The judge and Stabler gave him a look that might have killed lesser men, but Toby stayed calm. They were listening, so he had a chance. Steve pushed himself back on center stage. ‟Stabler obviously has a grudge against my client. Reconsider the decision, Your Honor.‟

Stabler‛s frown grew deeper. Toby held his breath. This might turn around. The judge was waffling. He leaned back and rubbed his chin. ‟One moment. All of you step out.‟

Toby went out first because he knew that Stabler would wait. Steve was cursing under his breath, and Stabler found a wall to lean against some distance away from them.

‟What the fuck did you do to piss off that cop?‟ Steve was not quiet. People on the first floor probably heard him.

‟I had a fling with his cousin.‟ Toby brushed his hair back and told his stomach to calm down. He was in no danger of going back. That was the larger picture. Stabler hadn‛t shot him, so he probably wouldn‛t. It was just a matter of time. Sooner or later, the New York Corrections System was going to turn him loose. He had to hang on until then.

‟Beecher, after this, we‛re done! I‛m not representing a screw-up like you again!‟ Steve did look a little angry.

Toby nodded. He agreed completely. ‟Go now. I don‛t like you, your attitude, or your mouth. I‛m not your bitch!‟

Amazement dropped over Steve‛s face. He gripped his briefcase that much tighter. ‟Your brother-‟

‟My brother must be in the dark about how much of a moron you are!‟ Toby spotted a water fountain over near Stabler and started for it. ‟Go fuck yourself, lawboy.‟

Steve cursed vividly and stormed away. Toby got his drink of water and laughed softly.

‟You‛re laughing?‟ Stabler‛s eyebrows were up. ‟He blows you off, and you laugh?‟

‟I don‛t need that prick.‟ Toby shoved his hands in his pockets and found some wall to lean against. He noticed that Stabler wasn‛t moving away. ‟Looks like you‛re getting your revenge.‟

Stabler smirked. ‟This is better than a bullet, I suppose.‟

Toby looked Chris‛s cousin up and down. ‟You‛re a lot like him, without the fangs. He‛d have killed me and laughed about it.‟

‟It was close,‟ Stabler snarled. ‟Tell me - how long before you kill someone else?‟

‟Keep harassing me, and you‛ll find out.‟ Toby felt his phone vibrate and he reached inside his coat pocket. He noticed that Stabler casually put his hand on his gun. Toby looked at the caller ID, decided that he didn‛t want to talk to his brother, and put it away. Stabler was close enough to see the lines on his face, and Toby had to breathe him deep. ‟You smell like him.‟

Stabler reacted as expected. ‟I don‛t play on your team.‟

‟Oh, really?‟ Toby rubbed his nose, trying to drive the smell away. He had almost a surreal moment of lust. It made him want to snort with disgust. He was still thinking with his dick when it came to Chris, and apparently, his lookalike cousin too.

Stabler‛s eyes were hard as stone. Whatever he was going to say or do was interrupted by the judge‛s secretary poking her head out and calling them back inside. Toby went without smirking. He‛d had a rational moment where he realized that Stabler might come back and finish the job tonight. His only real chance of survival might lie in running away.

‟Where‛s your lawyer, Mr. Beecher?‟ The judge frowned.

Toby clasped his hands together and tried to look wretched. ‟He told me to find another lawyer. Apparently, Detective Stabler intimidated him.‟

Stabler snorted, but it only made him look guiltier. The judge went from a frown to a scowl, and Toby contained his giggles.

‟I‛ve modified my decision. Mr. Beecher, you are free to find a residence elsewhere in the city.‟

Toby grinned. He‛d won. Stabler got to his feet fast, but the judge glared and continued, ‟However, you must work the job I‛ve located for you. If you quit, for any reason, you will be remanded back to the halfway house, and if you don‛t comply with that order, you will be in violation of your parole.‟

The secretary handed Toby a stack of papers. Toby only glanced at them. ‟How long do I have to keep the job?‟

‟Nine months, of course.‟ The judge never lost his scowl. ‟At that point, you will be free to seek other employment. I think it‛s a fair compromise.‟

Toby didn‛t agree, but he got to move out, so he‛d do it. ‟Thank you, Judge. I miss my kids.‟

‟I‛m sure the Rockwells still miss their child also.‟ The judge pointed at the door. ‟Your first day of work is tomorrow at nine a.m. Be on time.‟

Toby didn‛t even flinch at the judge‛s condemnation. He‛d spent years piling the guilt on, and today was no different. He bolted out the door before Stabler could make this worse. Stabler‛s eyes were dark and he looked angry. Toby went home to pack and get moved before he was taken out to the pier again. He didn‛t have all that much. It had seemed silly to buy things that he didn‛t have room for. His parole officer, Craig Lennon, came in the door right as Toby was getting ready to leave.

‟I want your new address by tomorrow, and keep your appointments.‟

Toby nodded. He‛d do that, but there was a larger issue at stake here. ‟I‛d appreciate it if you would not share the information of my whereabouts with Detective Stabler.‟

‟He‛s a cop, and he‛s looking at you hard for a murder.‟ Lennon glared. ‟I‛ll cooperate with him to the fullest.

Toby nearly gasped. If Stabler was talking it up, Toby was halfway to Oz already.

‟Tomorrow.‟ Lennon went on down the hallway to harass someone else. Toby got the hell out of there. He‛d have one night to make up his mind - take his chances with the job or run for his life.

*********

Elliot made the weights scream for mercy before taking a quick shower. When he came out, Benson was perched on the bench. She didn‛t smile. She didn‛t lately.

‟What‛s up?‟ They‛d cleared the case.

‟Did you whack Beecher?‟

Elliot didn‛t want to discuss it. A few jokes would be enough. ‟Cement shoes, baby.‟

She rubbed her forehead. ‟Tell me. I need to know.‟

‟Why? You gonna ask for a new partner? Again?‟ Elliot let his anger at her color his voice.

‟I might,‟ she snapped right back at him. ‟Getting him put away is one thing. Iced is another.‟

‟He‛s fine.‟ Elliot rolled his eyes. ‟He even managed to win his petition to get out of the halfway house.‟

Benson seemed relieved to hear it. ‟I‛ve never seen you so angry.‟

Some of that anger had been at her, but she didn‛t need to know that. He opened his locker and glanced back at her. ‟Beat it, will ya?‟

Her eyes widened. He‛d never asked her to leave before, but she retreated gracefully. He dried a little more thoroughly and found some clothes. Beecher had lied his ass off and worked that judge. It had been a bunch of bullshit, but this wasn‛t over. Elliot was going to find out where Beecher was living and working and keep a close eye on him. Beecher would screw up again, and Elliot intended to be there to escort the skel right back to Oz.

*********

Toby flexed his financial muscles - they were flabby from disuse - and rented the penthouse in a hotel. The view was acceptable. It had room service, a maid, and a spare bedroom so his kids could visit. It was also fun to throw money around. He had it. It was his responsibility to help out the economy. He didn‛t listen to that tiny voice inside his head that said he was being an asshole. The first thing he did after unpacking was go out on the tiny porch and watch the sun go down behind the skyscrapers. One night of freedom and a decision to make. He called his brother.

‟Toby, where are you?‟

‟I‛m out of the halfway house. I‛ll send you an email with my new address.‟ Toby made a note to buy a laptop, but he could use the business computer downstairs for now.

‟Wow! That‛s great! Steve was babbling about some detective and I was afraid you‛d been denied.‟

Toby found a comfortable chair and plunked down. ‟Detective Stabler did his best, but the judge let me go anyway.‟ He was going to gloss over the job. It was only nine months. ‟A couple of years on parole, and I‛ll be free.‟

Angus hesitated. ‟What are your plans regarding Holly and Harry?‟

Toby wasn‛t sure he understood the question. ‟Angus, you have custody. Are you wanting me to come get them?‟

‟No!‟

Toby winced at how quickly his brother said that.

Angus wasn‛t finished. ‟I love them. They‛re like my own. But . . . they‛re your kids.‟

‟Not according to the state of Connecticut,‟ Toby said dryly. ‟Can you bring them to visit me this weekend?‟

‟Of course!‟ Angus said fast enough to placate Toby‛s fear. ‟Send me all the information. We‛ll be there. I promise.‟

‟Thank you,‟ Toby said softly. He had to get off the phone before he started crying. ‟Bye.‟

‟Bye.‟ Angus hung up, and Toby sat there quietly. His kids were growing up, and the only stable family they‛d ever had was Angus and his mother. Toby was not going to take it away from them. But a few visits? What could it hurt? He loved them. He wanted to show them that he loved them.

Toby put his phone down. He was going to go to work in the morning, and he‛d do his best to avoid Stabler. Running away wasn‛t an option. He loved his children too much.

Stabler would get over it. Right? Toby hoped so. He hadn‛t done it. Sure, he still felt guilty about it, but he hadn‛t committed murder. Not Chris, at least. Toby ordered some food, watched some TV, and tried to wallow in the luxury. He tried. It stuck in his throat though. Chris was dead. His kids were still gone, and four walls made a prison, even if they were decorated with the latest nouveau artwork.

When the wake up call came, he took his hand off his dick to answer it. He hung it back up and didn‛t bother to finish. Lately, it was a waste of time. After his shower, he picked up the papers and started to really look at them. If he were going to an auto-mechanic shop, he wouldn‛t bother with nice jeans. The information scurried around in his brain, and he forced himself not to punch holes in the walls. This had to be too close for comfort. He went back to his closet and threw up his hands. His nicest jeans weren‛t nice enough, and his suits were in Connecticut. It wasn‛t as if he hadn‛t any choice though. He put on his best jeans, a nice shirt, casual shoes. It would have to be good enough. Hopefully, if he got fired, the judge wouldn‛t hold it against him.

Today, he caught a cab and was in the building a little early. He asked directions and walked faster. Knocking on the office door, he waited until he heard the okay. He pushed the door open. ‟Captain Cragen? Tobias Beecher.‟

*********

Elliot hung up his coat and rolled up his sleeves. He felt like a punching bag. It was only nine a.m. and Kathy had already let him have it. He gave her everything she wanted, and it wasn‛t enough. Everything was his fault. If steam had come out his ears, he wouldn‛t have been surprised.

‟My mother warned me. I should‛ve listened!‟

‟Kathy, please,‟ he‛d whined. It still rankled.

‟Can‛t you do anything right?‟

Her words still echoed in his head, but it was his heart that had heard them so clearly. He did his best, but he never did anything but suck. Benson gave him a look, and he shrugged back at her. He noticed someone crouched over his desk.

‟Hey, buddy. Go fondle someone else‛s desk!‟ He tried to smile, but it drained away as he realized exactly who was picking up the files on his desk. Before his good sense kicked in, his blinding anger grabbed a fistful of Beecher‛s shirt.

‟Elliot!‟

Elliot saw something on Beecher‛s face that gave him the right and he hit him. Dimly, he felt a fist slam into his guts, but it didn‛t slow him down.

‟Elliot!‟

Hands grabbed, and he struggled until he was forced to quit. Emotions that he‛d swallowed for years refused to go back down. ‟What the hell is he doing here?‟

Cragen got right in Elliot‛s face. ‟Meet my new office assistant - the guy with the bloody nose.‟

‟I know exactly what he is!‟ Elliot shrugged them off.

‟Good. Go clean up and come to my office.‟ Cragen pointed. Elliot obeyed. He usually did. Sitting down hard on the bench in the locker room, he put his head in his hands and tried to settle down. His heart raced and he wanted to go finish the job he‛d started on Beecher.

‟You fucker! Let‛s finish this!‟

Elliot jerked his head up and was on his feet instantly, his fists ready. ‟You asswipe!‟

‟This was not my fucking idea! You fucked me over with the judge and here we are! He thought you could keep an eye on me!‟ Beecher‛s anger didn‛t scare Elliot one bit. ‟Revenge is sweet, huh?‟

Elliot pulled his fist back. ‟This time I‛m aiming for your mouth.‟

Beecher grinned. ‟Do it!‟ He got very close and looked in Elliot‛s eyes. ‟I can take it. I can take it all. There isn‛t one damn thing you can do that hasn‛t been done before.‟

Elliot stopped. He quit. This situation was his responsibility. And Beecher‛s calm expectation of abuse made another punch impossible. ‟Go wash the blood away.‟

‟Pussy!‟ Beecher laughed at him. ‟Chris wouldn‛t stop.‟

‟Lucky for you, I‛m not Chris Keller.‟ Elliot went to the sink and washed his hands. He had lost control so many times before, and each time he‛d promised himself to do better. Apparently, he couldn‛t. He was everything Kathy said he was and more. Leaning against the sink, he looked into his own eyes and hated himself. Chris would understand. Elliot caught sight of Beecher in the mirror.

‟No, you‛re not him,‟ Beecher said quietly. Elliot thought he heard a slight note of relief in Beecher‛s voice. He straightened his tie and shirt, trying to find some semblance of calm. Cragen was going to have Elliot‛s ass for breakfast again and this time he might be suspended.

‟Are you going to press charges against me?‟ Stabler didn‛t look right at him.

‟For this?‟ Beecher sounded confused. ‟I figured you‛d just throw me in the hole for a week or so.‟

Elliot shook his head in bewilderment. It was becoming clear that any assumptions he‛d made about Beecher should be tossed out the window.

Suddenly, Cragen was behind them. ‟My office. Both of you.‟

*********

Toby was glad he‛d enjoyed one night of luxury because he figured he‛d be back at the halfway house before lunch. He took a chair in front of Cragen‛s desk, but it wasn‛t lost on him that Stabler stood behind him.

‟Elliot, I agreed to this arrangement because Judge Allen asked it of me. He seemed to think that you wanted it.‟ Cragen paused. ‟Beecher, you certainly don‛t have to work here if you don‛t want to.‟

‟I don‛t have a choice if I want to see my children,‟ Toby said firmly. He wasn‛t quitting, even if his face did hurt like hell.

Cragen looked at Stabler. ‟Your decision, Elliot. I‛m not losing a detective for a minimum wage ex-con.‟

Toby winced. ‟Minimum wage?‟

‟He was a lawyer,‟ Stabler drawled. ‟He expects three hundred an hour.‟

Cragen rubbed his eyes. ‟One more incident and Beecher, you‛re gone, and Elliot, you‛ll be on ass duty until I retire.‟

Toby got to his feet. ‟I‛ll get the files.‟

Stabler opened the door for him. ‟We can always continue our discussion after hours.‟

Toby rolled his eyes and went back to work. His face hurt, but he was going. He didn‛t expect to have friends at this job, and it was a good thing because no one gave him the time of day. They did grace him with three shoves and a trip or two - all accidents, of course. By lunch, he was ready to quit. Cragen told him to take thirty minutes, and he went outside to catch a fresh breath of air.

‟You‛re Beecher, huh?‟

Toby glanced at her. She was Stabler‛s partner. ‟Yeah. Wishing I wasn‛t doesn‛t get me very far.‟

‟Just leave him alone,‟ she said and walked away. Toby thought that was good advice. He walked down to the corner, bought a soda and some chips, and ate them. Nine months? Impossible. Unless he declared a truce with Stabler. Then the other cops might leave him alone. The back of Toby‛s neck prickled, and he turned to face Stabler‛s angry eyes. No truce. This was war.

*********

Elliot tried not to take juvenile enjoyment from watching his co-workers push Beecher around. It didn‛t work. By lunch, Beecher looked pissed off. He‛d quit before the end of the day, and he could take his sorry ass back to the halfway house.

Benson bought him a hot dog, and Elliot wished she‛d quit looking at him as if he was a murderer. He hadn‛t done a damn thing, except punch the skel in the nose. That bruise on Beecher‛s forehead didn‛t count. Everyone else had the right attitude, but she went to talk with Beecher.

‟You sure he did time in Oz? He looks like a yuppie lawyer to me,‟ Munch said.

Elliot sighed softly. ‟I‛m sure.‟

Munch and Fin were gone on a case soon after that, and Elliot eased his way over until he was right behind him. Beecher turned, and their eyes crackled as they met.

‟Quit,‟ Elliot snapped.

‟No. I was gonna, but you can forget it.‟ Beecher swept his too-long hair back. ‟Eat me.‟

‟Clever.‟ Elliot wasn‛t going to hit him again. He wasn‛t. ‟Where are you living?‟

Beecher suddenly looked nervous. ‟Crappy hotel. Listen, you did this. Quit bitching about it!‟

‟You killed Chris,‟ Elliot hissed. ‟And God only knows how many others. Why don‛t you crawl back in a cell where you belong?‟

‟Ouch,‟ Beecher drawled. ‟Chris talked about you often. Things you two did and said. We had plenty of time to discuss everything.‟

Elliot nearly punched him again. ‟I won‛t allow you to dirty my memories of him.‟ He walked away at that point, going back to the squadroom. Whatever Beecher thought he knew, it didn‛t matter. No one was going to believe a skel. Chris should have kept his damn mouth shut, but it was possible that Beecher was lying. Elliot hoped so.

*********

Toby called his P.O. as soon as Stabler was gone. Instead of giving an address, he gave a lame excuse about being in a hotel. He‛d find a place today. He promised. His P.O. grumbled but gave him another couple of days. Toby smiled and clicked off. He wasn‛t sure where he wanted to live, but the penthouse was too far from work, and quitting wasn‛t an option.

Cragen called him in the office as soon as he got back inside. ‟Any computer skills?‟

‟Plenty.‟ Toby gently touched his face and winced. ‟Stabler packs a punch.‟

‟Don‛t forget it. Stay out of his way.‟ Cragen gestured at his computer. ‟Take a look at it. It‛s driving me crazy.‟

‟Sure.‟ Toby was happy to hide in here, and he took his time. When Cragen stepped out, Toby sent a fast email to his brother, explaining the situation. If Toby turned up dead, Angus would know who to go after.

‟Did you find out what was wrong?‟ Cragan asked when he came back.

‟Needed defragged and you had a pile of cookies slowing things down. I also re-loaded your word processor program. It had some flaws. Give it a try.‟ Toby got out of the way.

‟Thanks, and pull the cold cases from ‛03.‟

‟Sure.‟ Toby had no idea what that meant. He went out and looked around the squadroom. It was deserted. Some guy named Fin, who looked like a gangbanger, Stabler, and a guy built like a moose. Toby groaned softly and went to Stabler. ‟Cragen wants the cold cases from ‛03. Can you elucidate?‟

‟No,‟ Stabler said. He didn‛t even look up.

‟You should try acting like an adult.‟ Toby stepped away. ‟Fin, help me out?‟

Fin looked at Stabler and then him. ‟Don‛t think so.‟

Toby rubbed his forehead. ‟Why am I blamed for Stabler‛s actions?‟

‟Because you‛re a skel.‟ Fin got to his feet and swaggered over. ‟You part of the Aryan Nation?‟

‟What the fuck?‟ Toby wasn‛t going to let that slide.

Fin gave him a lazy shrug. ‟Your file says your only tat is a swastika. You ran with the Nation. Around here, that doesn‛t carry any weight. In fact, it‛s another mark against ya.‟

Toby found a chair and sat down hard. Everyone had read his sheet. He was going to end up taking a bullet or a beating or both. For a moment, he held his breath and then he let it out slow. There was a computer on Benson‛s desk, and Toby went to use it. He Googled ‛cold case,‛ sighed at his own stupidity, and went to find them. They had to be somewhere. The longer it took, the better. It gave him time to curse himself thoroughly.

The first time he‛d been paroled, he‛d gone home. They‛d let him. He‛d been so happy, and then Chris had torpedoed it. This time - this time - the penal system hadn‛t been so trusting. McManus had made it pretty clear that they expected him to re-offend. Drugs. Alcohol. Something. So Toby had ended up here, dealing with Stabler. It was damn unfair.

Toby absentmindedly straightened as he went. These were a mess! He figured out the system quickly and took the cold cases to Cragen.

Cragen took them and looked at him. ‟Go find something to do.‟

‟You bet.‟ Toby went back to the files. He‛d putter with them until five and then he was out of here.

‟A swastika? Cragen hired a Nazi?‟ That was the guy called Munch. Toby kept his head down. He wasn‛t sure what was worse - the truth or a lie. Two seconds later, he was looking right at Munch. Munch looked pissed. ‟That true? You‛re a Nazi?‟

‟No,‟ Toby said shortly. He could see Stabler watching. ‟It‛s not a tat.‟

‟What the hell is it?‟ Munch must really hate Nazis because he wasn‛t walking away.

‟It‛s a brand.‟ Toby lowered his voice to a bare whisper, ‟They branded me. Okay? No one on the planet hates Nazis more than I do.‟

Munch toned his glare down. ‟They usually just kill men who don‛t cooperate.‟

‟They tried. Repeatedly.‟ Toby wasn‛t going to say anymore than that. ‟I can‛t go back.‟

‟I think I understand.‟ Munch glanced away. ‟I better not find out you‛re lying.‟

Toby put his face back in the files and acted busy. This had been such a bad idea. He could have worked at McDonald‛s - anywhere. Why the hell had he opened his big mouth and argued? His children‛s faces popped up in front of his eyes, and he nodded. He‛d do this for them. It couldn‛t be worse than Oz. Cops were all assholes, but they wouldn‛t kill him.

‟So, let‛s see it,‟ Stabler growled. He was too close.

Toby slammed the file cabinet and checked the clock. Ten more minutes and he could run away. ‟Absolutely not.‟

Stabler leaned against the cabinets. He had a toothpick in his mouth. ‟Munch, you want to see it, right?‟

Munch nodded. Fin nodded. Toby shook his head firmly. ‟No, and it‛ll take three more guys if you plan to strip me.‟

‟I‛m pretty good at strip searches. How about you, Fin?‟

‟They give a class at the Academy.‟ Fin looked tough. Toby hoped the guy stayed sitting down. He took the small scrap of his pride that he had left and went to Cragen‛s office.

Cragen looked up. ‟You‛re done for the day. Tomorrow, I‛ll get you a desk. I honestly didn‛t think you‛d show up.‟

‟I wouldn‛t if I‛d have known this was Stabler‛s unit.‟ Toby told the truth. ‟He‛s a dickhead.‟

‟Well, if you‛re here, I‛ll find you a desk.‟ Cragen obviously didn‛t care. ‟I couldn‛t afford a real assistant, so here we are.‟

Toby didn‛t react to the insult. ‟I‛ll decide in the morning.‟ He got his coat and headed for the door. No one glanced at him, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he was out. Hailing a cab, he went to find a meeting. He‛d been pushed too hard today, and he wasn‛t taking any chances.

********

Elliot followed him. He hadn‛t intended to, but he was curious as to where Beecher was living. Beecher had lied about the hotel. Elliot didn‛t question his need to know. The judge wanted him to keep Beecher out of trouble, so he would do it. That was all. The cab stopped in front of St. Mark‛s, and Elliot watched him go inside.

Finding a place to park took a minute, and then he went in. He stood outside the door of the AA meeting long enough to hear Beecher say, ‟My name is Tobias, and I‛m an alcoholic.‟

Elliot didn‛t go inside. He went back out to his car. The meeting would last an hour. Some part of him was glad that Beecher had gone. Today would challenge anyone‛s sobriety. His name was Tobias, huh? Elliot wondered very briefly what Chris had called him. Chris had loved him. Why? What did ‛Tobias‛ have that made him special? Elliot didn‛t see it. Not yet. But he wanted to understand it.

‟Chris, you stupid bastard,‟ Elliot said softly.

********

Toby came out of the meeting feeling a little better. He still would‛ve licked whiskey off the sidewalk, but it was under control. Another cab took him to his hotel, and he reluctantly packed. He‛d find something closer to the precinct. He‛d been stupid not to look at his place of employment before getting this. He marked it down to giddiness and shrugged.

When there was a knock on the door, he answered it. He‛d ordered one last meal, and then he had to go. It wasn‛t room service. Stabler nudged his way inside. ‟Damn, this is quite a step up!‟

‟You followed me?‟ Toby put some furniture between them. ‟Can‛t you leave me the fuck alone?‟

‟We need to talk.‟ Stabler dropped his coat on a chair. ‟More and more, I can‛t picture you with Chris at all. Putting aside the fact that Chris wasn‛t gay. He never liked rich boys or lawyers, and you‛re both.‟

Toby had no idea what to say. He did not want to sit and ‛talk.‛ Going to the bedroom, he dragged out his luggage and put it by the door. ‟Leave. Now. Or I‛ll call the police.‟

‟He did have a thing for blondes though.‟ Stabler smiled.

‟Fuck,‟ Toby whispered. There was another knock, and he let the waiter inside. He gave him a good tip and sat down to eat. ‟I didn‛t order for you.‟

‟I ate while you were at St. Mark‛s.‟ Stabler didn‛t sit at the table, and Toby was relieved. The food should‛ve tasted good, but Toby just ate it. He had to get the hell out of here. Stabler laughed softly. ‟That was a good punch today. I might have a bruise.‟

Toby didn‛t dignify that with an answer. He ate.

‟Chris is the reason that I work Special Victims.‟ Stabler sounded angry. ‟He was molested when he was a boy. His mother basically pimped him out to the local priest. She wanted to be a bigwig in the church, and she used Chris to get it done.‟

‟Damn,‟ Toby whispered. It explained a lot. ‟Where were you during all of this?‟

‟Sitting by my father, nursing a black eye.‟ Stabler shrugged as if he didn‛t care about that part. ‟When did you get branded?‟

Toby wasn‛t going to discuss that. He shoved the food away. ‟I‛m leaving. Don‛t follow me.‟

‟Sounds good. I‛ll give you a ride.‟ Stabler took out his cuffs and spun them. ‟Right?‟

Toby was trapped. He didn‛t like the feeling of wanting to snarl and snap, but it raged inside him. He was so fucked up the ass. ‟Why are you doing this?‟

‟Chris was important to me. I want to know why he loved you, and why you killed him.‟ Stabler raised a single eyebrow. ‟And the judge wanted me to check on you.‟

‟Let‛s go,‟ Toby said quietly. He didn‛t have a choice. Maybe if he told some lies, Stabler would get bored and leave him alone.

When the luggage was stowed, Toby got in the front this time. ‟I want a place closer to the squadroom. I don‛t care where.‟

Stabler put on his seat belt. ‟I got a buddy who rents apartments not far from work. He might have something.‟

‟Sounds fine. Price doesn‛t matter.‟ Toby didn‛t relax. He was keenly aware of Stabler‛s hand, his gun, and the bulge down below. It was embarrassing, but true. Toby made a promise to get laid soon. He was a slut for Chris, and Stabler was the same package. It made it hard to even look at him. The anger only seemed to make it worse.

Stabler parked the car after a short drive. He got out, and Toby followed him. They were let in, and Toby let Stabler do all the talking. He was brutally honest. The landlord looked Toby over.

‟Got cash for the first month?‟ He didn‛t look hopeful.

Toby got out his wallet. ‟How about two months in advance with the deposit?‟ He counted out the bills. Stabler‛s eyes were wide. His buddy nodded and took the money. They signed some forms, Toby took the key, and he went to get his luggage. Stabler stuck close, and it was annoying.

‟Why don‛t you go home?‟ Toby tried to convey his disdain, anger, and hatred.

‟We ain‛t done.‟ Stabler turned on all the lights. ‟Not bad. Do you always carry that much cash?‟

‟No. I hit the bank this morning early.‟ Toby was glad that he had. He looked around at the empty apartment and gave up on getting rid of Stabler. He‛d leave when he was finished torturing him. Toby sighed. ‟I guess I have to get some furniture.‟

‟It‛s that or sleep on the floor.‟ Stabler went to look out the window. ‟Why you? He was married to three different women!‟

‟He loved Bonnie the most. She kept her faith in him no matter how much he hurt her.‟ Toby opened a closet and looked inside. He would need everything. He‛d call Angus and see what could be done. The extra room could be for the kids, if they stayed over. He‛d put a bed in there. ‟This place is safe, right?‟

‟Perfectly.‟ Stabler turned and nodded. ‟Mostly cops live here. You lost faith in him, didn‛t you?‟

‟I‛d have forgiven him, but he took my children from me, and I was very angry.‟ Toby hated talking about it. He‛d acted like a prick. ‟My love wasn‛t enough. I had to be there too.‟

‟He took what he could get.‟ Stabler sounded as if he understood. Maybe he did.

Toby was suddenly very tired. It had been a long day. His face hurt, and tomorrow he had to do it again. He sat down on the floor. ‟I wish I were home.‟

‟Me too,‟ Stabler said softly. He walked over and looked down at him. ‟One more thing: tell me about the swastika.‟

Toby tilted his head to the side. ‟My first week in Oz, I was sodomized and branded by a Nazi named Vern Schillinger. He made me his prag - his bitch.‟

Stabler furrowed his brow. ‟You didn‛t fight back?‟

‟I was a lawyer. Out of shape. Pudgy even. He had no trouble beating the shit out of me, and he seemed to enjoy doing it.‟ Toby leaned back on his arms. He really didn‛t want to discuss this, but there was no sense in lying. ‟It‛s on my ass. Now, run back and tell all your cop friends so you can laugh when I come to work tomorrow. That was the plan, right?‟

‟No,‟ Stabler whispered. He might have looked horrified, but it could have been disgust. ‟We‛ll talk more later.‟

‟I can‛t wait.‟ Toby lay back flat on the floor, and Stabler let himself out. What a fucking bad day - and tomorrow would suck also. Eight months and twenty-nine days to go. This would be better than the halfway house - he hoped.

********

Elliot went downstairs to his own apartment. It was small, but it was enough. Kathy and the kids had needed the house. The swastika was on Toby‛s ass? That had to have hurt. Elliot rubbed his face and went to bed. It had been a long day for him as well. If he were a good man, he‛d offer Beecher the couch, but he wasn‛t.

Ten minutes later, he knocked on Beecher‛s door again. Beecher pulled it open. He looked like shit, and Elliot forced himself to sound something other than angry. ‟You can have the couch, if you want.‟

Beecher - Tobias - frowned. ‟What?‟

Elliot sighed. ‟I live downstairs. You can sleep on the couch.‟

Tobias looked away. ‟I don‛t get you.‟

‟Ain‛t nothing to get.‟ Elliot took a step back. ‟I‛m in four. You decide.‟

‟No.‟

Elliot went back to his apartment. He‛d given ground again. His father had always said that he was weak. Stupid. Not even close to being a man. Chris‛s father had run off, and Elliot had wished that his would. Chris had hated his mom. Elliot rubbed his face and got in bed. He had to stop thinking all the damn time. Finally, he slept.

His alarm jolted him out of bed and he got moving. Shower, shit and shave and he was on his way to work. He didn‛t even glance upstairs. Today, he wanted to think about work and his family, not Tobias. Elliot groaned slightly. Chris had been Elliot‛s family, and this was all about him.

***********  
Chapter Two - Judge not according to the appearance. John 6:12

Toby tried not to slink in the door of the squadroom. He had to stiffen his spine and be a man, not a prag. No one said a word to him, and Stabler wasn‛t even around. That was slightly reassuring. He knocked politely on Cragen‛s door and waited before opening it.

‟Oh! You‛re back.‟ Cragen shoved away from his desk. ‟Okay, well, let‛s find you a desk, and I‛ll dig out the list of things that you‛re responsible for doing around here.‟

Toby didn‛t nod. His face felt puffy and sore today. It looked bad too. He‛d made up his mind on the way over here that he was going to treat this like a prison job - keep his head down and do the work. If he were lucky, no one would beat him up today. Damn it, he was not going back to the halfway house.

‟That okay?‟ Cragen pointed at a small desk near some stairs.

‟Sure.‟ Toby didn‛t care. ‟Where do the stairs go?‟

‟Lounge. One of your jobs is keeping it clean.‟ Cragen shrugged. ‟I think that‛s the reason my last assistant quit.‟

‟It was the wages.‟ Toby was certain of that. He threw his coat over the back of the chair.

Cragen put his hands on his hips. ‟Munch!‟

Toby actually flinched. He had to get a grip, and he tried to take a deep breath quietly. Munch strolled over. He didn‛t look upset today. ‟Cap?‟

‟Give Beecher here a tour - a complete one. If I have to send him to interview room three, I don‛t want him lost in lockup.‟ Cragen stared at the desk. ‟He‛s gonna need a computer,‟ he muttered and strode away.

‟Glad to have you on board, Beecher,‟ Munch couldn‛t be serious, not after yesterday. ‟I won twenty bucks off you.‟

Toby pushed his hair back. ‟You bet that I‛d come back.‟

‟I did a little research. There was no way that the man who took on Vernon Schillinger was going to be intimidated by a few rude cops.‟ Munch barked a strange laugh. ‟Come on. I‛ll show you around.‟

Toby followed, listened, and made a map in his head. He was reserving judgment on Munch until later, but he was intelligent, sarcastic, and suspicous - all good things. He kept up a steady patter of explanations, mixed with comments about Nazis and their newfound power in the prison system. Toby grunted in the appropriate places, but said nothing that could be used against him in a court of law.

‟Got it all down?‟

‟Yes. Thanks.‟ Toby meant that. He appreciated being treated like a human. He only had one question to ask. ‟Did you hack into the computer system at Oz?‟

‟Hack?‟ Munch grinned. ‟I‛m a cop.‟

‟Oh, yeah.‟ Toby was back at his desk. He sighed at the jumble of computer parts that had been put on it. ‟Excuse me, I have shit to do.‟

Munch went off without another word, and Toby sat down in front of a pile of junk. This was just peachy.

********

Elliot told himself not to glance at him, but that only lasted about thirty minutes. Benson must have noticed because she piped up, ‟Why don‛t you kill him and get it over with?‟

‟Cragen needs help with the paperwork,‟ Elliot drawled. ‟Anyways, it‛ll be more fun to beat on him.‟

‟Funny.‟ She snatched up a pile of papers and walked off. He didn‛t stare after her. She was like PMS on steriods lately. Something else that was probably his fault. At least Kathy hadn‛t called today. Not yet. Considering they were divorced, they sure did talk a lot. Well, they yelled a lot.

‟Should we get one of the guys from TARU to come help out Beecher?‟ Fin asked softly.

Stabler threw him a grin. ‟Hell, no. Did you make sure he had a mouse?‟

‟Couple of them.‟

‟Motherfuck!‟

Half the squadroom started laughing. Elliot joined in with no guilt.

‟Duck, Elliot!‟

Elliot ducked and a dead mouse sailed over him to land on Benson‛s desk. He whipped around. ‟Now that‛s cruelty to animals!‟

‟Fuck you!‟ Tobias shot him the finger before crawling under the desk. Elliot left the mouse there. Benson always said she wanted a low-maintenance pet.

‟Elliot, take Fin.‟ Cragen waved a piece of paper in the air. ‟And stop picking on the mice in this place.‟

Elliot grinned, grabbed the paper, and got his coat. Fin was right behind him.

********

‟Did you have enough of everything?‟

Toby plugged the keyboard into the tower and got to his feet. ‟I really don‛t need two monitors.‟

‟Well, put it somewhere.‟ Cragen handed him a list. ‟These are your primary responsibilities, and of course, if I need anything else, that‛s you.‟

Toby put it on the desk. ‟I‛ll memorize it. That printer needs to go in the trash.‟

‟Do it.‟ Cragen raised his eyebrows. ‟Got a mouse?‟

‟More than I need,‟ Toby growled. He didn‛t appreciate cop humor. ‟Do I get internet?‟

Cragen answered as he walked away. ‟No more personal emails on my time.‟

Toby wanted to curse and throw things. He blew off that energy by taking the broken printer and a broken monitor to the dumpster out back. The crash and tinkle made it all easier to live with. He ought to track that judge down and beat the shit out of him. This was not funny. Checking his watch, he went back inside, grabbed his coat, and went to lunch. He had phone calls to make.

Stabler was coming in as Toby went out. ‟Could you believe that apartment? Mouse turds everywhere!‟

Toby kept on walking. Five more hours of this shit and he was going to need two meetings. He snapped open his phone and called Angus, finding a good spot on the steps to sit.

‟Hey, Angus.‟

‟How‛s the job?‟

‟Wow, does it suck.‟ Toby took a deep breath. ‟Give me the bad news.‟

‟You are having a bad day. There is none. The truck will be there around seven. They‛ll unload. I paid them in advance, but they‛ll expect a big tip.‟ Angus was probably smiling. ‟The kids and I will come check it out on Saturday. Okay?‟

‟Okay.‟ Toby was glad to hear it. ‟Are they bringing me a computer?‟

‟Yes.‟ Angus seemed to hesitate. ‟Are you sure this Stabler guy isn‛t going to come after you again?‟

‟I think he‛s gone to Plan B, which is making my life hell.‟ Toby switched ears. ‟No wonder people skip out on parole.‟

Angus didn‛t laugh. ‟I gotta go. Take care, Toby.‟

‟Will do. Thanks. I‛ll call tonight.‟ Toby hung up, shoved the phone away, and closed his eyes. He leaned his head against the bricks and let the press of it remind him of where he‛d been. This was better. He was free. He was. And if he didn‛t have everything he wanted, well, no one did.

‟Dreaming of better days?‟

Toby got to his feet. He was two steps up from Stabler. Cursing at him would be a mistake and so would nailing him in the balls. ‟Just wishing I was drunk or high again.‟ He went around him and spotted the hot dog cart. The next thing he had to do was buy some groceries. He could not survive on hot dogs. Stabler stuck with him.

‟You buying?‟ Stabler grinned.

Fin and Munch were there, and they gave him a steady look.

‟Is it a tradition or something? New guy takes shit all day and then buys lunch?‟ Toby tried to make a joke, but he wanted to stuff hot dogs somewhere they wouldn‛t like it.

‟Yes,‟ Munch said. ‟Definitely. And if it wasn‛t before, it is now.‟

‟Fine. I‛ll buy.‟ Toby didn‛t care. ‟It‛s not like I can take you out for a beer.‟ Not that he‛d even consider such a thing. He got his own food, paid the bill, and went to eat on the stairs, away from the cops. Munch wasn‛t that bad, and Toby didn‛t mind buying him lunch. The sun was out, and he took time to notice it as he ate. This was better than Oz. It was. Much better. A car horn rang out not too far away, and he flinched.

‟How long have you been out?‟ Stabler sat down next to him.

Toby didn‛t look right at him. ‟A month. I hated every minute of it, but after so long . . .‟

‟You‛re not sure what to do or where to go,‟ Stabler finished for him. Toby wanted to deny it, but he couldn‛t. Part of his brain was waiting for the horn, waiting for lockdown, waiting, always waiting. It made the day very long. Stabler seemed to understand. ‟Chris was never going to get out.‟

‟No,‟ Toby said quietly. ‟Did you ever visit him?‟

‟I did a couple of times. The second time he told me never to come back, and he meant it.‟ Stabler looked right at him, maybe through him. ‟He said that he was shit, and it was time I faced that.‟

‟Sounds like him.‟ Toby sighed. He wadded up his trash and got to his feet. This long day had barely begun, but there were a few unanswered questions, and it was easier to ask out here than inside. ‟I miss him. Why do you believe me?‟

Stabler frowned and eased up.

‟You never even questioned that he loved me. You thought I‛d killed him, and yet you never considered that I was lying?‟ Toby knew he was missing something.

‟He sent me a letter. I got it after he died.‟ Stabler‛s voice was low, but full of suppressed anger. ‟I know he loved you, but I sure as hell don‛t know why.‟

Toby was not going to discuss this further. It hurt too much. He went to the trash can before going back inside. Of course Stabler didn‛t see it. How could he? What made sense in Oz was nothing but madness out here. Toby had no way to explain it. He‛d fallen in love, and that love had been merciless. It had taken no prisoners, and it had nearly killed them both. Well, it was over. Finished. All he had left was a few very sweet memories and a pissed off cousin. With those thoughts uppermost, he went to clean the lounge. What a shit job.

*********

‟Beecher! Get your dead mouse off my desk!‟

Elliot wiped his mouth to hide his smile. He couldn‛t help it. It was damn funny. Tobias didn‛t hurry to the scene of the crime, but he wasn‛t dragging his feet either.

‟That‛s Stabler‛s pet mouse.‟ Tobias grinned. ‟He must have staggered out of Stabler‛s pocket, crawled across the desks, and died.‟

Benson pointed at it. ‟Off! Now!‟

Tobias threw up his hands. ‟Not in my job description!‟

Elliot laughed aloud. He shouldn‛t be enjoying this, but he was. Benson was furious, and Tobias had the balls to play right along.

‟Beecher, take your pet mouse back to your desk.‟ Cragen was trying not to smile. Elliot had seen it before.

Tobias sniffed and picked it up by the tail. ‟I do not get paid enough for this!‟ He took it away, and Elliot had the feeling that it would show up in his desk later. Well, he‛d started it.

Cragen put his hands on his hips and demanded an update on all their open cases. Elliot put his head back into work and kept it there. He might have noticed a few times that Tobias wasn‛t a slacker, but it was a busy day. It was Cragen that got in the last word of the day. ‟No more OT this month. Find a stopping point and go home.‟

Elliot nodded obediently, but leaned back in his chair. He had nowhere to go. It was then he noticed that Tobias‛s coat wasn‛t on the back of his chair. That meant that he was gone. ‟Hey, you think Beecher is gonna work out?‟

‟He‛s done more work today than I got out of my last assistant in a week, and he built a working computer from parts. I hope he stays.‟ Cragen shrugged. ‟I know he‛s a skel, but he was a lawyer. It was the booze that got him.‟

Elliot had to step carefully now. ‟Oz probably wasn‛t the place for him.‟

‟A white lawyer? He was eaten for lunch, you know that.‟ Cragen was gently telling Elliot to back off a little.

‟Okay. I‛m headed home.‟ Elliot started cleaning off his desk. He opened the drawer to put away his pencil and jumped. ‟That asswipe!‟

Cragen left laughing. Elliot threw the mouse in the garbage. That joke was over, but it had been funny, and he‛d been right. Tobias didn‛t quit. He did his best to get the last word. Elliot shrugged into his coat and headed for his apartment. He had to step around some guys hauling furniture inside, and he had a feeling he knew who was moving in. Nosy and willing to admit it, he went upstairs to Tobias‛s apartment. The door was open, and he was helping two big guys from Jersey put things where he wanted them.

‟All this shit is yours?‟ Elliot stepped around a coffee table.

Tobias put his end of the couch down. ‟I did own a few things before I went to prison.‟

The Jersey guys both looked surprised that Tobias had done time. Elliot got out of the way as they went back out the door. ‟That couch is better than mine. I may have to borrow it.‟

‟Right.‟ Tobias rolled his eyes. ‟Hey, I have an idea. Why don‛t you go away? Just seeing you makes my teeth hurt.‟

Elliot heard the truth in that, but he wasn‛t ready to leave. ‟But I brought your pet mouse. He was lonely.‟

‟Shithead.‟ Tobias moved a floor lamp. ‟I took less shit working in the mailroom with a bunch of Nazis!‟

Elliot wasn‛t sure what to say to that. He was willing to help, but he wasn‛t welcome. Good thing he was naturally pushy. ‟Pizza later?‟

‟I wish you had a life,‟ Tobias muttered. ‟Sure. Why not, and then you can hit me some more!‟

‟It‛s a plan.‟ Elliot went downstairs to change. If someone had asked him why he was doing this, he‛d have had a hard time answering. But he knew it was something about Chris‛s last letter. The words had been impossible to forget.

Hey Cuz,

Still in Oz. Still fucked. It ain‛t getting better, and I seem to be taking the one guy I care about down with me. Hell, I love him. It‛s fucked up. Toby deserves better, but I ain‛t got it in me. Don‛t ever come here, but maybe you‛ll see me soon.

Chris

Elliot hadn‛t understood until he‛d gone to claim the body. He had seen him soon. Chris had known he was in over his head, but Elliot had resisted the idea that Chris had killed himself. However, Tobias had convinced him of that. Did Tobias deserve better? Elliot didn‛t know, but he wanted to find out what made him tick - what made Chris love him.

Dressed in jeans and a blue wife-beater, Elliot went back upstairs to help. One thing he did know: if Tobias was tough enough to love Chris, he was tough enough to put up with him.

*********

Toby nearly groaned when Stabler came through the door looking so much like Chris. The urge to drag him down and kiss him was almost impossible to shove away. Fuck. It was just wrong. Stabler didn‛t start talking. He helped. Toby hated to admit that he appreciated it. He hadn‛t owned more than a green shirt and a pair of socks in years. All this shit was slightly overwhelming.

‟You want me to unpack these dishes?‟ Stabler asked.

Toby nearly jumped. He‛d been too far inside his head. ‟Dishes? My mother must be losing it.‟

‟Maybe she thought you‛d need to eat.‟ Stabler pulled out a plate and stared at it. ‟My wife would have liked these.‟

‟Women do love dishes. Genevieve had three sets, that I knew of.‟ Toby smiled slightly, remembering. ‟They don‛t understand that paper plates are the way to go.‟

Stabler laughed softly. ‟I hear that. Okay, I‛ll do the kitchen. Now that we have plates, we can order pizza.‟

Toby was tempted to sigh loudly and act like a brat. Instead, he found his cell phone and ordered pizza. The movers were long gone with a hunk of his cash. They‛d smiled, and Stabler had nodded approvingly. Toby went to putter in the closet. It was nice to have all his clothes. Of course, he wasn‛t sure they‛d fit, but they were his. Done with that, he went to reassemble the computer his brother had sent him. Tomorrow, he‛d get cable internet and TV.

‟Cragen was impressed that you built a computer from all those parts.‟ Stabler flashed him a grin.

‟You guys just piled all the leftovers on my desk, didn‛t you?‟ Toby put the tower on the floor next to the desk that he vaguely remembered from his office at home.

‟He said to find you a computer. We were just following orders.‟ Stabler was so full of shit. ‟I had a broken keyboard to contribute.‟

‟I got it to work.‟ Toby smiled sweetly at him. ‟Too many donut crumbs had gummed up the works.‟

Stabler laughed. The pizza arrived, and Toby paid for it. Stabler put two plates on the small table, and they eyed each other warily. ‟I‛m going to go get a beer. Want something?‟

Toby wanted a vodka martini. ‟A soda or anything that‛s not beer is fine.‟

Stabler nodded and went out the door. He was back in record time, and they were facing each other over a supreme pizza again. Toby thanked him for the soda and popped it open. That long neck looked damn good, and Stabler seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Toby took his eyes off it, swallowing hard. He ate instead. He‛d go to a meeting soon. It wouldn‛t help much, but it was better than nothing.

‟My brother wants to know if you‛re taking me out to the pier again.‟ Toby kept his eyes on his pizza. He was curious as well about Stabler‛s plans.

Stabler choked. He chased it with beer, coughed again, and put his pizza down. ‟Only if we need to have a private talk.‟

‟We can do that here.‟ Toby was forced to admit that he didn‛t understand Stabler at all. His motivations were murky, his actions suspect. ‟Were you going to shoot me?‟

‟No. I wanted answers.‟ Stabler looked slightly embarrassed, which was a surprise. ‟A scared man is an honest one.‟

‟Sometimes.‟ Toby had learned that lesson in Oz. ‟Sometimes a scared man lies his ass off.‟

Stabler gave a short nod of agreement. ‟A cop knows the difference. You were ready to die. It didn‛t scare you. So you told the truth.‟

Toby drew a sharp breath at that accurate assessment of his character. ‟Proud of yourself?‟

‟No. I‛ve never come so close to the line.‟ Stabler went back to eating. Toby watched him. This was a man that lived with guilt - kept it close by him.

‟The line?‟ Toby wanted to know what that meant.

‟The line between a dirty cop and one that does his best. There ain‛t no going back.‟ Stabler finished his beer.

Toby thought about that. ‟You loved him a lot.‟

‟I did.‟ Stabler got up and went back to unpacking boxes, wiping his hands on his jeans. Toby alternated between the computer and the pizza. He was hungry. When he had it up and running, he turned to find Stabler staring at him. Their eyes locked for two seconds, and then they each found something else to look at, but Toby had a feeling that he was in trouble. He‛d done that before with a man, and it had led to long nights and sweaty sheets.

‟Thanks for your help,‟ Toby said lamely. He brushed his hair back and almost winced. His face still hurt.

‟Sorry about your face.‟ Stabler might have meant it. He looked sincere, and he seemed to notice everything. ‟I lost my temper.‟

Toby thought that was the understatement of the decade. ‟Chris and I fought a lot. I wasn‛t surprised when you hit me.‟

‟You came right back for more, I noticed.‟ Stabler gave him a tight smile. ‟Okay. I‛m done.‟

Toby nodded. He went to open the door. ‟I‛ll see you tomorrow.‟

‟Maybe so.‟ Stabler grabbed up his empty bottle and one more piece of pizza. ‟Later.‟

Toby locked the door behind him. He leaned against it and came to the conclusion that the only way to get rid of Stabler was to go back to the halfway house, and even that might not work. Probably the only way to ditch him was to skip parole and go to California, and that really wasn‛t an option. Toby crashed on the couch and resigned himself to eight months and twenty-eight more days of Stabler.

*********

Elliot ate his pizza and slumped down on the couch. He‛d caught a glimpse of it. He was sure of it, and it worried him. For one second, the air had sizzled between them, and he‛d seen what Chris had. Tobias had something. Elliot didn‛t know what it was, not yet, but Chris, so needy, had been caught like a moth to the flame. He‛d always talked big and shoved everyone away, but not Tobias.

‟Fuck,‟ Elliot whispered. He‛d figure it out so he could sleep at night, and then he was running before his wings were singed off, just like Chris‛s.

*********

Toby shifted on his knees and flipped quickly through the file drawer. In another ten years, if everyone stopped filing today, he might have everything in its proper place. It was annoying as hell.

‟Here.‟

Toby looked. He regretted it instantly. Making absolutely sure that his mouth didn‛t drop open, he took the file. ‟Whatever.‟ It was rude and heartfelt. Staring into Stabler‛s crotch would make anyone bitchy.

‟Want to grab lunch?‟ The words were low and even.

‟No.‟ Toby forced his eyes back down into the file cabinet. Drooling over that would only lead to trouble. Damn. Was Chris somewhere giggling about this? Toby could believe it. He waited until the legs were gone before moving to the next drawer - this one was on top. Chris had liked to top. Toby rubbed his eyes and prayed for strength. He had to stop thinking about rubbing and kissing and gently-

‟Beecher!‟

Toby jerked around. ‟What?‟ he snapped. It was Captain Cragen. Toby immediately apologized, ‟Sorry. I was . . . elsewhere.‟

‟Well, pull your head out and run this over to Casey Novak‛s office. You know where that is?‟ Cragen was frowning.

‟Yes.‟ Toby took the file. ‟Can I break for lunch after that?‟

‟Not a problem.‟ Cragen disappeared back into his office. Toby put the file in front of his slightly tented chinos and got out of the squadroom. He needed a break - a long one. A year would probably do - maybe not. The walk got rid of the problem in his pants, and he tapped politely on Novak‛s door. She said something that he couldn‛t make out, and he went inside.

‟Captain Cragen sent this over,‟ Toby said and held out the file when he got to her desk.

‟Thank you.‟ She took it with a look that assessed him from top to bottom. ‟Beecher, right?‟

‟Right.‟ Toby smiled slightly in an effort to be polite. He‛d seen her around the squadroom and heard her speaking to the detectives. He wasn‛t sure how he felt about her. She seemed competent, and several guys thought she was hot. He disagreed. She wasn‛t attractive to him, not in the least. He edged for the door. There was no reason to hang around.

‟You were disbarred?‟ Novak had a strange look on her face that Toby couldn‛t decipher.

‟Yes.‟ Toby had the feeling he was caught now. ‟Anything else?‟

She frowned. ‟Quite a comedown to officer gopher. Your father was a legend.‟

Toby was well aware of that, but he wasn‛t his father - had never been his father. ‟Right now, I don‛t have any real choices. Judge Allen saw to that.‟

‟He always comes up with innovative solutions.‟ She still looked confused. ‟Are they giving you a hard time over at the one-six?‟

‟I‛ll take the Fifth.‟ Toby didn‛t intend to stand here and be interrogated any longer. ‟It‛s my lunch. Nothing to take back?‟ He couldn‛t spell it out any clearer than that.

She raised her eyebrows. ‟So you aren‛t available for consult?‟

‟Absolutely not,‟ Toby said firmly. ‟I fuck up everything I touch.‟ He left before she could answer and before he could feel guilty for cursing. His poor father had put up with his screwed up eldest son, and it had gotten him killed. He had deserved a long life enjoying his grandchildren, but all he‛d received was a shank. Toby choked back another wad of guilt, went out the front door, and escaped down the sidewalk. He didn‛t want to eat. He just wanted to walk and pretend that he‛d never gotten anyone that he loved killed.

**********

Elliot wandered up to the lounge, poured his fifth cup of coffee, and rotated his neck. He was strung tight today, and he wasn‛t sure he wanted to think about why. Going to sit, he rubbed his forehead and tried to drive away the image of Tobias on his knees.

‟Shit,‟ Elliot muttered. How was he supposed to work with a damn porno movie playing behind his eyeballs? It wasn‛t easy, and he cursed his cousin. Chris was to blame here. If he‛d have stuck with girls, Elliot wouldn‛t be having these thoughts.

‟Long day?‟

Elliot blinked in surprise. He hadn‛t heard the door, and he flashed a fake grin. ‟Hi, Casey. You slumming?‟

Novak smiled and went to the rail to look down on the squadroom. ‟Not funny. I met Tobias Beecher today.‟

‟And?‟ Elliot wasn‛t going to offer his opinion. Not unless he was cornered.

‟He should be bringing in millions at the firm his father helped build. Not making coffee.‟

‟For a bunch of cops,‟ Elliot finished for her. He was used to lawyers thinking they were better. ‟He messed up his life. If anything, he‛s lucky.‟

She turned. ‟Lucky?‟

‟Oz kills a good portion of people every year.‟ Elliot wished the damn place hadn‛t killed Chris. ‟Tobias got out alive.‟

Novak slowly nodded. ‟He‛s a lawyer. Use it if you have to.‟

‟Shouldn‛t you be telling Cragen that?‟ Elliot wanted to make sure he understood what she was implying.

‟He doesn‛t sit in the interrogation room. You do.‟ She raised her eyebrows. ‟He‛s a Beecher. He‛s good, whether he knows it or not.‟

Elliot watched her leave on the tail end of that statement. He didn‛t have an answer anyway. She was right though. Tobias might be useful from time to time. Elliot would keep it in mind. But just that, nothing else.

*********

Toby took out his red magic marker and crossed out another day on the calendar that he‛d found discarded. Four x‛s so far. Not that many, but he‛d get there.

‟Keeping track, huh?‟ Stabler laughed softly. ‟Serve your time and get out.‟

‟That‛s the plan.‟ Toby shoved the calendar in the drawer and picked up a stack of mail that he had to drop off. ‟Did you get your fives finished?‟

Toby watched Stabler‛s eyes flash to angry. His jaw would clench soon. Toby suppressed the urge to giggle. ‟If you‛d have learned to type with more than two fingers, it wouldn‛t take so damn long.‟

Stabler stalked away. Toby had won that engagement, and that‛s how he tried to think of every encounter. Every time he turned around, Stabler was there, and Toby was sick of it. They weren‛t going to be friends. They sure as fuck weren‛t going to fuck. He had to go away. Toby had spent part of last night praying that Stabler would suddenly be transferred, and it had only been four days. Fuck.

‟Headed to the mailroom?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby liked Munch. Munch was cynical, well-educated, and he never believed anything without two kinds of proof. Toby smiled slightly. ‟Got something?‟

Munch tossed him a couple of letters. ‟Blood money for my wives.‟

‟I thought you couldn‛t get blood from a turnip.‟ Toby made a straight pile.

Munch looked disgusted. ‟You could have done better than that old joke. We‛re all going out to Cavanaugh‛s. Want to come?‟

Toby blinked in surprise. ‟Me? The geeky ex-lawyer?‟

‟I was thinking hippie ex-lawyer. It‛s the hair.‟ Munch was drier than a good, white wine.

‟No, but thanks. I have to hit a meeting.‟ Toby didn‛t want to be pleased that Munch had asked him.

Cragen came out of his office. ‟Here‛s another letter, and can you call the vending company to complain? The machines have been empty for three days.‟

Toby nodded, took the letters, and headed for the mailroom. He‛d pick up and deliver on the way back. Just one more of his shit jobs at the one-six. He had wondered what they‛d done before the judge had sentenced him to work there. Someone had done it. Not Stabler, that was certain.

*********

‟Good thing he said no,‟ Elliot said to Munch. ‟I can‛t buy a round if I‛m not there.‟

Munch raised his eyebrows. ‟I like him. Well, as much as I like anyone.‟

Elliot couldn‛t believe it. ‟He‛s not only a lawyer but a skel and an addict. Get a grip, John.‟

Cragen hadn‛t gone far enough. ‟You have a problem with addicts, Elliot?‟

‟Only when they run over little girls, Captain.‟ Elliot should‛ve kept his mouth shut. He was frustrated as hell. Every time he tried to stick out his hand to Tobias, Tobias bit it off. The skel should be grateful that anyone would talk to him. Munch went back to his desk, and Cragen walked away after a short glare. Elliot was glad they were dropping it. Tobias had made up ground this week. Less people disliked him on principle alone. He worked, and he didn‛t complain, and he made good coffee. Around here, all that counted for something.

Elliot shut down his computer and organized the paperwork on his desk. He was done with his fives, damn it, and Tobias had no right to even ask the question.

‟Ready?‟ Fin asked.

‟More than.‟ Elliot needed a beer or three. It had been a long week.

********

Toby was glad the squadroom was emptying when he got back. He could deliver the mail without worrying that someone would try to trip him. A couple of the detectives really seemed to dislike him, and while he didn‛t blame them, it made his job harder. When he was done, he shut off his computer and went to check in with Cragen.

‟I think I‛m done for the day,‟ Toby said. He hoped he was.

Cragen nodded. ‟You did good work this week. I‛m glad the judge sent you our way.‟

‟You mean sentenced me to work here.‟ Toby wasn‛t going to sugarcoat it.

‟Whichever.‟ Cragen shrugged. He cared about results. Toby liked that about him. ‟And Beecher, stay out of Detective Stabler‛s face.‟

Toby knew his little exchange hadn‛t gone unnoticed. ‟He needs to back off.‟

Cragen had been fiddling with some paperwork, but he gave Toby full attention now. ‟You were implicated in the death of one of his family members. He isn‛t going to forget that. He‛s going to keep coming back at you until he‛s convinced of your guilt or innocence. I gave you the option to leave, remember?‟

‟I didn‛t kill Chris Keller,‟ Toby ground out, but he got the point. ‟So, I just put up with it?‟

‟Yes. Or confess and go back to Oz.‟ Cragen was distracted again. ‟You attend the meeting at St. Mark‛s?‟

Toby nearly flinched in surprise. ‟Yes.‟

‟There‛s one closer.‟ Cragen held out a slip of paper. ‟Here‛s the address.‟

Toby took it. He slipped it in his pocket and tried to find words. ‟Um, thanks.‟ He awkwardly shifted the subject to safer ground. ‟I don‛t work this weekend, right?‟

‟Right. Unless you want to put in some pro bono work.‟ Cragen smiled and pointed. ‟There‛s the door.‟

Toby used it. He was almost starting to like Cragen. The guy was no fool, and if he didn‛t like him, he kept it to himself. Toby walked home. He was glad that it was close enough, but not so far that it wore him out. The meeting would start at seven. He had time to eat and call Angus. Tomorrow, he‛d get to see his kids, and that would make the whole world right again.

‟Hello, Beecher.‟

Toby had to control a sigh as he walked up to his parole officer. ‟Hey, Lennon.‟

‟Glad to see you happy.‟ Lennon smiled. ‟I need to see your new place.‟

‟Of course.‟ Toby led the way upstairs. ‟Detective Stabler helped me find it.‟

‟I wondered how you got in a building full of cops.‟

Toby opened the door. He hated parole. ‟I have a meeting at seven.‟

‟Keep your curfew. Eventually, I‛ll check.‟

Toby sat down and watched him search the place. It was annoying, but part of parole. He never had anything, and if he did, he wouldn‛t keep it here. How stupid did they think he was?

‟You‛re not even thinking of buying a car, right?‟

‟Wouldn‛t dream of it.‟ Toby rolled his eyes. He didn‛t have a license. ‟Is Stabler still looking at me?‟ It seemed a smart question to ask.

His parole officer shrugged. ‟If he is, you might as well confess and go back. He never quits a case.‟

Toby was so reassured by that. ‟Great.‟ He felt the earth slip away again. Stabler was pretending to be nice so he could get a confession. It was just like something Chris would do. And Toby would have to smile because Cragen was watching. Toby put his head in his hands. He should‛ve known that Stabler wouldn‛t turn it loose. Not after almost shooting him. Stabler was a liar, like Chris. A manipulator, like Chris, and they could both kiss Toby‛s ass.

‟Good enough. Cragen tells me you‛re doing a good job. Keep it up.‟

Toby got the door and said some stupid shit to get rid of him. Stabler was coming after him. That was the thought that kept pounding through him. Toby knew enough to be scared. Stabler was a good cop. He cleared a healthy percentage of his cases. If he wanted to know what crimes Toby had committed, Toby was in trouble.

‟Ah, fuck,‟ Toby whispered. He wasn‛t hungry any longer.

********

Elliot only made it as far as his couch. His head twirled and the slight euphoria of too much beer was making him grin. Things were going better. Kathy hadn‛t called in three days - a relief - and he hadn‛t dreamed of Chris lately. Work was hell, but that was normal. He laughed softly and rubbed his crotch. It was nice to have his dick back. He wasn‛t sure where it had been, but he‛d missed it. Some sex would be great. Where the hell he‛d get it was a mystery, but he needed it. He took his hand away and shut his eyes.

‟C‛mon Cuz,‟ Chris said with a big grin. ‟He wants it.‟

Elliot swallowed hard. ‟Not so sure, Chris.‟

‟It‛ll feel good, and that‛s what matters, right?‟ Chris winked at him. ‟Can‛t get him pregnant either.‟

Elliot rubbed his face and then wished he hadn‛t. His father‛s fist had left a bruise. The pain made him feel defiant. His father would hate this. ‟You done this before?‟

‟Trust me.‟

Elliot did. He bolted awake, rolling off the couch and hitting the floor. The impact brought him back to the real world. Quickly, he popped open his trousers before he messed himself. Deep breaths and he fumbled. Yes. His brain cast about for someone to make this better, and he groaned. Chris was getting him into trouble again.

*********

Toby had learned how to shove his emotions aside in Oz, but there was no way he could do that now. His heart ached, his mistakes pounded into him all over again, and the cautious happiness on their faces made him want to weep. They‛d hugged him, and he never wanted to let go, but he had, and they‛d gone home with his brother. Home.

He stood on the sidewalk and shattered into ten thousand tiny pieces. For some reason, this hurt more than walking away from them in Oz. This did more than hurt. This made him want to give up. Who the fuck did he think he was fooling? He was still a goddamn loser. In Oz, he‛d told himself over and over again that there was still time to love them. Still time to be part of their lives, but seeing them today, he knew that was nothing but another lie. A lie that had helped get him through the night in the darkest place on Earth. It was done now. He was out, and they would never love him. Not really. He‛d let them down, betrayed them, and they‛d never forget it.

‟What‛s up, Beech?‟

Toby heard Chris, but when he turned it wasn‛t him. The earth under his feet shuddered from more grief than a man should be asked to bear and it was a long moment before he could speak. ‟You‛re not him.‟

Stabler‛s eyes widened and he said something, but Toby didn‛t hear it. Toby walked down the sidewalk and tried to find something inside himself that might get him through this night. Some lie, some bit of nonsense, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing.

*********

Elliot frowned, but wasn‛t going to follow him. Tobias had looked devastated. His blue eyes had been full of unshed tears. Elliot wasn‛t sure he wanted to know why. He needed to put these groceries away, and he was going to see if there was a Saturday game on. Sighing, he watched Tobias nearly bump into some teenagers. They cursed at him, and he just hunched his shoulders.

‟Shit,‟ Elliot said. He had wanted to know what made Chris love Tobias. He still did, but he also wanted to hunker down and ignore the whole damn thing. It was the weekend. Moving quickly, he went to stuff his groceries in the refrigerator. Back out on the street, he spotted Tobias about two blocks away. Elliot followed him. He was on parole. He might hurt someone. Elliot had a responsibility to the public. He did, and it sounded good too.

*********

Toby didn‛t lash out at them. He didn‛t have it in him. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he headed for the bar that he knew was three blocks away. The fact that he knew about it was proof enough of his continuing addiction. The place looked like it had been there since the last war. He stood outside long enough to make a few people stare, and then he went in. It smelled good - beer, peanuts, unwashed tables, and men that needed to go home to their families. It was perfect. He sat at the bar and gripped the stained, old wood tightly.

‟Ain‛t seen you before,‟ the bartender said.

‟Just moved in up the street,‟ Toby replied. His mouth was watering. ‟Nice place.‟

‟Hasn‛t been nice for twenty years. Alkies like you always lie.‟ The bartender laughed, showing off the fact that he didn‛t have all his teeth. ‟Beer? Whiskey? Shooters?‟

Toby tried to think. He tried to walk out, but his willpower was nonexistent tonight, and his ass was planted like a tree.

‟Hey, Manny,‟ Stabler said and clapped Toby on the shoulder. ‟Get us some cheeseburgers, fries, and Cokes, will ya?‟

‟You working?‟ Manny frowned.

‟Usually am.‟ Stabler sat down next to him. Toby had winced from the touch, but he hadn‛t had the balls to say anything or demand a bottle of whiskey. He didn‛t even want to look at not-Chris.

‟Fuck.‟ Toby wanted to say something meaningful. He wanted to ball him out. Tell him to fuck off. Force Stabler to leave. Nothing but a muttered curse word came from Toby‛s mouth though. The TV droned in the background. People were talking about their lives, and he wanted to get shit-faced drunk.

‟What happened?‟

‟Nothing.‟ Toby told the truth. ‟I‛m a drunk. I need a drink. Move away if you can‛t watch.‟

Stabler cracked some peanuts. ‟How long you been sober?‟

‟Too long.‟ Toby rubbed his lips. They tingled for it. He should‛ve been stronger. From the very beginning of his life - he should have been fucking stronger! Always needing something more than he should. Booze, drugs, Chris: it was all the same. He leaned, smelled the beer-stained wood of the bar, and wanted to lick it.

‟Shit. Let‛s go.‟ Stabler got up and took a hold of him by the shoulder.

Toby resisted the pull. His craving for a drink spiraled quickly into anger, and he ripped his arm away, nearly falling down, and slamming into the man sitting next to him.

‟Asshole!‟

For a bare instant, Toby went somewhere else. The whiskey splashed against his shirt, the guy was up and angry, and Stabler looked thoroughly disgusted. Everything snapped back, and he was on his ass. Stabler got in the guy‛s face, and Toby took the chance to stumble out the door. He‛d find another bar, one that didn‛t have Stabler in it. He smelled so good. He wanted to suck his shirt dry.

‟Beecher, you stupid fucker.‟

Toby watched his small amount of freedom drain away. It was gone - like the love of his children. He‛d broken his parole - again.

*********  
Chapter Three - As you think in your heart, so are you. Proverbs 23:7

Elliot bought the guy a new drink, helped Manny clean up the mess, and got the food to go. He wasn‛t wasting these cheeseburgers. Tobias was long gone by the time Elliot made it out the door and headed for home. Tobias hadn‛t taken a drink. He might make it. Hopefully, he‛d headed straight to a meeting.

There was a game on, and he settled in, ate some food, and tried not to worry. Tobias was an adult. He would get through this - whatever it was. At halftime, his phone rang.

‟Stabler.‟

‟I need some advice,‟ Fin said in his slow way. ‟Just saw Beecher go through booking. Should I tell Cragen or not?‟

‟Shit!‟ Elliot grabbed his coat. ‟No. Don‛t tell him. Go stall. I‛m on my way.‟

‟I thought you wanted him gone.‟

‟If he‛s gone, we have to file again!‟ Elliot slapped his phone shut and ran to his car.

*********

Toby didn‛t try to defend himself. He didn‛t say a damn word. None of it mattered. He was guilty, and he was going back where he belonged. The fact that he wasn‛t drunk didn‛t come into it. He‛d served the rest of fifteen this time, and that might be long enough to see him dead. Putting his head down on his cuffed hands, he tried to muster up the strength to care.

‟You sure messed up my weekend!‟ Lennon snapped. ‟If you were gonna get drunk, you should‛ve picked a bar that I don‛t own half of!‟

Toby didn‛t mention that no one had warned him. He rubbed his eyes. Booking didn‛t take long. The orange jumpsuit was next, and then the long walk to lockup. He saw Fin on the phone along the way and was a little surprised at the lack of a smirk. Cragen was going to have to find a new office gopher. That would never happen - not at minimum wage.

Fin shut his phone and caught up with them. ‟What‛s the charge?‟

Toby didn‛t answer, but Lennon was happy to. ‟He‛s drunk. Violated his parole. Again!‟

‟He don‛t look drunk. He‛s walking steady.‟ Fin got in front and stopped them. ‟Did you give him the test?‟

‟He reeked! He staggered out and nearly knocked me on my ass!‟ Lennon needed to get over it.

‟Craig, Beecher here is a lawyer. You know he‛ll sue your ass if you don‛t give him the test.‟

Toby sighed. Now was his chance to jump up and down and protest his innocence. Fuck. ‟Stop it, Fin. Go away and gloat with Stabler. Play with some dead mice.‟

Fin glared. Lennon groaned. ‟He sure don‛t sound drunk. Crap.‟ He threw up his hands. ‟Get him a damn test and then shove him in a holding cell.‟

‟You bet,‟ the officer said. Toby went along, did what he was told, and was relieved that the holding cell was empty. No chair, no cot, so he sat on the floor and let the concrete underneath his ass give him anchor. This was what he knew. This was what he‛d become. The alcohol had numbed him, cursed him, and taught him what he really was - shit. He was shit. His kids knew it too. They knew it, and they‛d never forget it.

Toby rocked back and forth slightly. There had been so many places where he could have made different choices - better choices. Chris might be alive. His father and son might be alive. If only . . .

‟You sure about all this?‟

‟Craig, I wouldn‛t cover up for a skel. We were waiting for cheeseburgers, some guy spilled his drink on Beecher and pushed him on his ass. While I was cleaning up the mess, he stumbled out the door.‟ Stabler should shut up and go home.

‟Why didn‛t he say something?‟ Lennon yelled.

‟Dunno. Maybe he figured he was screwed so he shut up.‟ Stabler had it right, but he didn‛t know it.

Toby didn‛t move. He knew they were staring holes through him.

‟I wasted Saturday on this!‟ Lennon wasn‛t happy.

It was Stabler that threw the locks on the cage door. ‟Come on. I got some clothes in my locker.‟

Toby had a brief, irrational desire to insist they send him away. He deserved it for Metzger - Nazi prick - if nothing else. But Stabler pulled him up to his feet, took the cuffs off, and herded him down the hallway. Toby went. He wanted to rip away, act like an ass, and maybe let Stabler hit him again, but his heart wasn‛t in it.

‟Take that off.‟ Stabler opened a locker.

Toby caught a glimpse of pictures of Stabler‛s family. He sat down on the bench, instead of obeying. ‟I thought you wanted me gone.‟

‟Changed my mind.‟ Stabler didn‛t look at him. He was digging around.

‟But you think I killed him. You know I‛m guilty. Why did you do this?‟ Toby rubbed his wrists.

Stabler hit him with some sweats and a T-shirt. ‟It won‛t bring him back, and I don‛t think you did it.‟

Toby still didn‛t move. ‟Everyone says you‛re just biding your time. I have to admit I‛m confused.‟

‟People are stupid. I see it every day.‟ Stabler straddled the bench. ‟If I wanted you gone, you‛d be gone. What the hell happened today?‟

‟I saw my kids,‟ Toby said softly. He looked him right in the eye now. ‟They‛ve given up on me. I always had these fantasies about the day I got out - the smiles, the laughter, the love. I never dreamed of the hesitation, the almost fear, the worry in their eyes, and the constant need for reassurance from my brother.‟

Stabler nodded. ‟And?‟

‟And nothing I do will ever make it right.‟ Toby didn‛t fight the sob. ‟I threw it all away for booze, for Chris, and there isn‛t any way to get it back.‟

‟So crawling back in the bottle will make it better?‟ Stabler made a disgusted noise. ‟You have to give them time. They‛re probably still in shock.‟

Toby pushed his palms into his eyes. Part of him wanted to blame the cop sitting across from him. He‛d been on track until Stabler had shown up and fucked him over. Slowly, he pulled the zipper down. He should just give up.

‟Tobias, don‛t quit on them. Not now. You managed to stay alive in the worst prison on the eastern seaboard. You beat the booze, the heroin, and the Nazis. Christ, man, now you have a shitty job and a halfway decent apartment. Don‛t quit now!‟

‟Now that‛s a pep talk. You coach Little League in your spare time?‟ Toby had to hide behind a joke because he knew Stabler was right. ‟If you‛d have just shot me, I wouldn‛t feel so crappy!‟

Stabler opened his mouth to retort, but Toby saw him freeze. Toby got to his feet and nearly cringed.

‟Would you care to explain that, Beecher?‟ Cragen asked.

Toby shoved off the jumpsuit and dressed. ‟That time in the squadroom, if you remember, things did get a little out of hand. That‛s all.‟

‟I hope that‛s all you meant.‟ Cragen looked them both over. ‟I bumped into Craig Lennon in the hallway. He filled me in. Beecher, I suggest you go to a meeting.‟

‟I will.‟ Toby put his shoes back on. He looked ridiculous, but he didn‛t care. ‟Thanks for covering my ass, Stabler.‟

Stabler looked surprised. ‟Let‛s go get your wallet from booking.‟

Cragen nodded in apparent satisfaction. ‟You two almost sound like adults.‟ He went out the door. Stabler breathed a small sigh of relief. Toby heard it, but he wasn‛t commenting on it. They got his wallet, and he took Stabler up on the offer of a ride. Toby didn‛t want to talk. He‛d go to a meeting and then get some sleep. Things would be different tomorrow, if not better.

‟How‛d they look?‟ Stabler asked right before Toby went up the stairs.

Toby couldn‛t help but smile. ‟They‛re beautiful.‟

‟Go to a meeting, Beech.‟ Stabler went to his apartment. Toby didn‛t nod, but he was going. It didn‛t take long to get into some real clothes. He folded Stabler‛s and tried not to notice the smell. It was a good smell. Chris‛s smell and it made Toby ache. He forced it away and went downstairs.

‟Come in!‟

Toby pushed open the door. ‟Here. Thanks.‟

‟Sure.‟ Stabler was in his kitchen area. ‟You want your cheeseburger? You look hungry.‟

Toby put the clothes down on the arm of the sofa. He knew he should get the hell out of this apartment, but he was going to ignore his good sense. He usually did. ‟I am.‟

‟Sit down. I‛ll heat it up. Manny makes the best cheeseburgers.‟ Stabler grinned. ‟Thanks for not jamming me up with Cragen.‟

‟The whole thing would sound like something from a Godfather movie anyway.‟ Toby sat down at the small table. He was going to let Stabler be the waiter. ‟Not to mention that considering you had just saved me from going to Oz, it would have been rude.‟

Stabler brought him a soda. Toby thanked him and opened it. Their eyes met again, and it was Toby that looked away. He couldn‛t handle those eyes tonight. Stabler asked in a tone that wanted answers, ‟Why didn‛t you call me?‟

Toby blew out a deep breath. ‟It‛s all I really know. I‛m a skel. You said it, and it‛s very true. Don‛t even consider trusting me.‟

Stabler brought him a plate with a burger and fries on it. ‟I wouldn‛t.‟

Toby was glad to hear it. ‟Thanks for the food. I‛d feel guilty, but it was your turn to buy.‟

‟Keeping score, huh?‟ Stabler laughed and sat down across from him. ‟What drugs did you take in Oz?‟

‟Everything and anything I could put up my nose, even lint.‟ Toby started eating, hoping to forestall further conversation. The burger was good. It made him feel less hollow on the inside. He took a drink of soda and asked a question of his own, ‟You‛re divorced?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Stabler looked down at his wedding ring. It was telling that he still wore it. ‟I don‛t blame her.‟

Toby knew that was true. Stabler blamed himself. He was Catholic too, and that made it harder. Chris had explained it once. Toby told a little truth. ‟Chris was proud of you. Bragged about his cousin, the cop.‟

‟Don‛t lie to me,‟ Stabler snapped.

‟I‛m not. Chris trusted me. He knew I wouldn‛t tell anyone.‟ Toby hadn‛t really believed it. ‟After lockdown, there‛s plenty of time to talk. Of course, Chris also told me that you hated him.‟

Stabler frowned. ‟I wonder why.‟

‟Oh, he liked the pity on my face. I‛d hold him and tell him that I loved him, even if no one else ever did.‟ Toby had enjoyed that also. It had made him feel powerful, as if his love meant something. He finished the burger and watched Stabler worry about stories told. On any other day it would have been funny. Toby pushed the plate away. ‟Thanks. I feel like maybe I‛ll live now.‟

‟You‛re going to a meeting, right?‟ Stabler took the plate to the sink.

Toby sighed and checked the time. ‟There‛s one in ten minutes. I‛ll only be a little late.‟ He got to his feet. ‟And Stabler, you shouldn‛t worry about Chris‛s big mouth. No one is going to believe a skel with an ax to grind.‟

Stabler got his coat. ‟Come on. I‛ll drive you.‟

That wasn‛t an answer, and Toby knew he should say no, but he didn‛t. He went along for the ride, got out at the curb, and said, ‟Thanks.‟

‟Stay out of trouble.‟ Stabler clearly meant that. Toby went inside and downstairs. He was not going to drink today, and he was going to call his kids tomorrow. The rest of his life was optional.

********

Elliot drove away and made the impulsive decision to go see if his kids were home and if Kathy was still spitting mad about whatever had her panties in a twist lately. He should have been reassured by Tobias‛s talk about no one believing him. Elliot wasn‛t. He didn‛t like it that anyone knew about the times with Chris. It wasn‛t that he was ashamed. He squeezed the steering wheel. Yes, he was ashamed. He‛d been young and foolish and he wanted it left in the past - not smirked over by Chris‛s boyfriend.

Tobias had nearly screwed himself over today. Elliot hoped he‛d done the right thing, keeping him out of Oz. If Tobias killed someone now, it was Elliot‛s fault. He forced his hands to relax and turned on the radio. Chris had been proud of him. It was something to smile about, and he hoped it hadn‛t been another lie.

********

‟How was lockup, Beecher?‟

Toby rolled his eyes. He didn‛t even have his coat off. ‟Cozy. Needs more furniture though.‟

Munch laughed. He was having a great time. Toby hung up his coat next to Stabler‛s and refused to wonder where Stabler was lurking. He‛d show up.

‟Beecher! My office.‟

Toby went to get his ass chewed. He deserved it, but he didn‛t get paid enough to listen. Stabler was already in the office, and he looked pissed. Toby sat down to hear the bad news.

‟Novak wants to borrow you for the day. I agreed. Take your coat.‟ Cragen glared at Stabler. ‟Okay?‟

Toby nodded. He didn‛t care. ‟Of course.‟ He got to his feet. ‟Now?‟

‟Move on it.‟

Toby left before they started yelling at each other. He got his coat and went, but Stabler caught up with him in the hallway. Stabler said nothing until they were in the elevator. Toby prepared himself for yelling.

‟You‛re going to Oz with her. Cragen won‛t let me go, and Novak seems to think you might come in handy,‟ Stabler spat. ‟This is my damn case!‟

‟Fuck,‟ Toby whispered. ‟Hey, you go. I‛ll stay here.‟

‟My point exactly!‟ Stabler yelled. He took a deep breath. ‟You‛ll watch her back?‟

‟Of course. I‛m not going to date her however.‟ Toby wanted to make that clear. He understood Stabler‛s frustration, but Stabler would be killed in Oz. ‟It is too dangerous for you.‟

Stabler said nothing, but his glare was enough.

Toby got out of the elevator ahead of him. ‟If I don‛t come back, I have a will in my apartment.‟

‟Not funny,‟ Stabler growled. Toby left him in the hallway. He hadn‛t been joking, but it probably didn‛t matter. Novak was ready to go, and they were on their way. She drove. He read over the case file and tried not to pass out from anxiety. This was the last place he wanted to go.

‟I don‛t get paid enough to do this kind of work.‟

‟I‛d imagine not.‟ Novak didn‛t smile. Did she ever? ‟Think of it as pro bono.‟

‟I do about thirty-nine hours of that a week.‟ Toby flipped through the pages. ‟Are we going to do this often?‟

‟You work for Cragen. He works for me. Ergo, you work for me.‟ She kept her eyes on the road.

‟Clever. I bet you‛re a lawyer.‟ Toby dug out his cell phone. He scanned through the memory until he found the number that had been pushed on him. The one he‛d never wanted to call. He hit dial. ‟Sister Pete, it‛s Tobias.‟

‟Tobias! How are you?‟ She sounded happy to hear from him.

‟I‛m doing okay. Listen, I‛m coming to Oz today.‟ He pretended not to hear her gasp. ‟Can you meet me at the front gate with any information you have on Nigel McFadden?‟

‟Yes, but you have a lot of explaining to do.‟ She was pushing her glasses up her nose. ‟Soon?‟

‟About an hour. Thanks.‟ He shut his phone and smiled. It was good to talk to her.

‟Who was that?‟ Novak asked.

‟Staff psychologist. She‛ll help in whatever way she can.‟ Toby scanned the information again. ‟Do you know what cell block he‛s in?‟

‟No. Does it matter?‟

‟Well, I‛m on terms with a few of the CO‛s.‟ Toby shut the file. ‟You brought me for a reason.‟

Novak shot him a fast grin. ‟I did.‟

Toby didn‛t even try to relax back. It was going to be a long day, and if he got out alive, he‛d be grateful.

********

Elliot tried not to worry, but he did. Novak could handle herself, and Tobias threw a good punch. They‛d be fine. Unless they were shanked. He groaned softly and rubbed his face. It was his damn case. He should be there.

‟Elliot, get with Fin and redo this canvass,‟ Cragen said from behind him.

Elliot got to his feet. It was going to be a long day.

********

Toby kept telling himself to keep breathing. He knew now the depths of his stupidity on Saturday. Getting sent back here was the worst possible thing in the world. He‛d never drink again, and he‛d never break his parole, and he‛d work wherever they told him to. He would be Lennon‛s bitch, if only he didn‛t have to come back.

‟You don‛t seem to be breathing,‟ Novak said.

‟It‛s hard. This place . . . is hell.‟ Toby had no other word to describe it. ‟McFadden knows your perp. I‛m sure of it.‟

Novak nodded. ‟I am too. How can we get him to flip?‟

‟Have them get Ryan O‛Reily.‟ Toby nearly smirked. He had the solution to this problem. ‟Let me talk to him alone.‟

‟Is it safe?‟ Novak frowned.

‟Yes.‟ Toby got to his feet. ‟You wait in Sister Pete‛s office.‟

‟Sounds fine. Don‛t get shanked. Stabler will kill me.‟ Novak picked up all the files and joined him.

Toby stayed slightly behind her as they went to Sister Pete‛s. ‟I think he‛d jump for joy.‟

She didn‛t have time to answer, and Toby wasn‛t going to worry about it. It was ten minutes before O‛Reily came through the door, and they were shaking hands.

‟Beech, you stupid fuck, coming here!‟ O‛Reily laughed.

Toby saw Novak‛s eyes widen. ‟Come on. We‛ll talk in private.‟

‟Where?‟ O‛Reily opened the door, and they were out in the hallway fast. ‟You with the bitch?‟

‟She‛s my boss.‟ Toby rolled his eyes. He had to play this right, but it was good to see that nothing could kill the Irish. O‛Reily grinned, and they were walking.

********

Elliot left out his frustration. ‟They should‛ve been back by now!‟

‟She called about a half hour ago. They‛re fine. Beecher has a plan to flip him.‟ Cragen shook his head. ‟She was laughing, but wouldn‛t tell me why.‟

‟Great,‟ Elliot grumbled. ‟They better call with the name.‟

‟She will. Go find something else to do besides glare at me.‟

Elliot took his glare back to his desk. He hated waiting, and he should‛ve gone, and he hoped that Tobias wasn‛t so traumatized that he ran out and got drunk.

‟Settle down, El.‟

‟Yeah, yeah,‟ Elliot grabbed his straw to chew while he found something else to do.

********

‟Call Stabler and give him all the details.‟ Novak cleared the metal detector. Toby was right behind her. They were headed back, and he wanted to heave out a huge sigh of relief. He didn‛t. She would notice.

‟Beecher, you can breathe again.‟

‟I was fine,‟ Toby lied. ‟It was good to see Sister Pete.‟

‟She‛s clearly fond of you.‟ Novak dug out her car keys. ‟Call him.‟

Toby checked his reception. ‟As soon as we get past the fence.‟

She nodded. ‟Good work in there. I may see about getting you a raise.‟

Toby wasn‛t getting his hopes up. ‟I‛m just glad we‛re not dead.‟ He checked again, saw that he had enough juice to get a call back to Stabler, and dialed. Stabler sounded irritated. Toby gave him the information quickly and concisely.

‟I‛m on it. Good work.‟ Stabler clicked off. Toby put his phone away and tried not to smile. It felt good, but strange, to be on the right side of the law for a change. The ride to the city was quiet. Novak was not chatty, and Toby was glad. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to relax. They‛d let him leave. He was fine.

By the time they got back to the squadroom, the perp was in a room. Cragen pulled Novak aside. ‟What did you have to give McFadden?‟

Toby wasn‛t sure if he should head to his desk or stay with Novak. It was nearly four. That was the good news. He could go home and have a small breakdown in an hour.

‟We didn‛t give McFadden anything. Beecher took care of it.‟ Novak smiled. ‟Is Stabler getting anywhere with our suspect?‟

‟He‛s ready to make a deal.‟ Cragen nodded. ‟He‛s waiting on you.‟

‟Excellent.‟ Novak glanced over her shoulder. ‟Beecher, you want to be in the room?‟

Toby instantly shook his head. ‟No. I‛m sure Cragen has things for me to do.‟ He was slightly flattered that she‛d ask, but he had no business in there. He and Stabler would probably get in an argument. Novak left them, and Cragen took another step so they were close.

‟What did you threaten him with?‟ Cragen was almost frowning.

Toby shrugged. ‟Prison is tough. Being in a gang is the only safe place to be. I simply explained the social structure and how he could fit into it.‟

‟And he flipped?‟ Cragen‛s eyes were wide.

Toby nodded and headed for his desk. He didn‛t want to hash over the details or the fact that he owed O‛Reily a favor and a hundred bucks. The money was nothing. He‛d wire it tomorrow, but the favor could come around to bite him in the ass. O‛Reily had a way of working things. Toby sat down at his desk and sighed at the pile of files. Everyone had decided that tossing them on his desk was much easier than attempting to file them. As if he didn‛t have a lounge to clean. He smothered a laugh, pushed his coat off, and stretched before starting on them. It was mindless work, and that was fine by him.

*********

Elliot set his alarm a little early so he could catch him before work. Tobias always walked, but this morning, he was getting a ride, whether he liked it or not. Elliot went upstairs, but before he could knock, Tobias pulled open the door.

‟What?‟

‟Let‛s go get some donuts and talk for a minute,‟ Elliot said with a smile that he knew was a charmer.

Tobias‛s shoulders slumped. ‟New guy buys?‟

‟Nah. I‛ll buy. Come on.‟ Elliot laughed softly. He waited outside the door while Tobias got his coat. They went down the stairs shoulder to shoulder, and Elliot let himself really look at him. Chinos, comfortable shoes, long-sleeve shirt that he never rolled up, and an expensive leather coat: that‛s what covered the outside, but Elliot was starting to become fascinated with the inside. Tobias was mouthy, smart, impulsive, a neat freak, and right on the edge of being depressed. Elliot had seen it enough in his own face to recognize the symptoms.

‟Stop staring at me,‟ Tobias growled.

Elliot didn‛t react to that. If he did, he‛d look guilty. He got in the car, buckled, and waited until Tobias was settled. ‟You impressed Novak, and that ain‛t easy.‟

Tobias looked straight at him. ‟It doesn‛t matter, Elliot. It‛s not as if she‛s going to hire me. This shit job is probably the best it‛s going to get.‟

‟So the regard of other people means nothing to you?‟ Elliot didn‛t turn the key. He wanted to understand this. ‟Is it all about what you can get from them?‟

Tobias flushed and shifted on his seat. ‟I can walk.‟

Elliot started the car and drove towards the nearest bakery. He should‛ve kept his mouth shut, but he wasn‛t that kind of man.

‟It used to mean something, before I came to understand that everyone wants to use me. It‛s nothing but words, so they can bend you over later.‟ Tobias looked angry.

‟Damn. No wonder you like Munch.‟ Elliot thought he was a fairly cynical guy, but Tobias had him beat. He parked in front of the store. ‟Coming in?‟

‟Fuck.‟

Elliot chuckled and opened the door for him. ‟Did you get donuts in Oz?‟

Tobias gave him the look of death. Elliot took that as a no. He ordered enough to fill Tobias‛s arms with boxes. Tobias gave a small grunt. ‟They‛ll make a huge mess with these!‟

Elliot grinned. He paid the bill, picked up the coffees, and got the door again. When the donuts were stashed in the back seat, he handed Tobias the coffee. ‟You got him to flip. Thanks.‟

‟Why was this case so important to you?‟ Tobias put on his seatbelt.

‟They‛re all important, but that guy was running a child pornography ring. I hate that shit.‟ Elliot didn‛t wait this time. He started for the house. ‟And I don‛t want anything from you.‟

‟Really?‟ Tobias looked only out the window.

Elliot decided to tell the truth, but it didn‛t come easy. ‟Nothing that you wouldn‛t give.‟

Tobias said nothing, and Elliot didn‛t either. They took the donuts in the squadroom.

*********

Toby got the boxes up to the lounge without being torn apart by hungry cops. When he had everything in a semblance of order, he got one for himself and took it to his desk. Coffee and a donut - damn, this was living. He didn‛t even pretend to work.

‟You look like a happy man,‟ Munch said and laughed.

Toby swallowed. ‟The most heinous thing about being in prison is the lack of coffee. I would have shanked someone for the right to lick a discarded cup.‟

Munch rubbed his forehead. ‟The horror.‟

‟Exactly.‟ Toby did turn on his computer. He still didn‛t have internet, but he was seriously considering asking for it again. Munch wandered off, and Toby caught himself glancing over at Stabler‛s back. Stabler did want something. Toby knew it. His groin told him so. It didn‛t make any sense, but it was true.

Toby wiped his mouth and took his coffee to Cragen‛s office. ‟What‛s up for today?‟

Cragen looked up at him. ‟No one told me there were donuts.‟ He walked right past him. Toby went to wipe his face again.

*********

Elliot leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up, chewed his straw, and considered going home. It had snowed, and that always slowed the crime rate down. He‛d never understood it, but it happened. Maybe people were just pissed at the snow, instead of each other.

Benson had left about an hour ago. The squadroom was as quiet as it ever got, and his thoughts drifted to his family. Kathy had quit calling. They had a schedule now, and they followed it. He got the kids on Saturdays after five, and that was it for the week. Kathleen and Maureen knew that if they wanted to see him, they had to be there. So far, he hadn‛t missed a Saturday. It was coming, but he hoped it could wait.

Elliot caught a glimpse of blond hair over his shoulder. ‟You‛re working late.‟

‟I had to take an hour to see my parole officer.‟ Tobias didn‛t come close to talk. Elliot turned a little to see that Tobias went to his desk. They hadn‛t exchanged anything more than shop talk in two weeks. Elliot had left him alone - backed off. Oh, he‛d watched him, but nothing else. Tobias suddenly looked at him. ‟You got a problem?‟

‟Nope.‟ Elliot grinned. ‟I like your new glasses.‟

‟Right,‟ Tobias said sarcastically. He was a master of it.

Elliot flipped his straw into the trash.

‟What‛s the verdict?‟ Tobias got out his calendar that he marked every day. Elliot didn‛t pretend not to understand. Tobias had known he was being watched - being judged. He was no fool. Elliot put his feet on the floor and turned off his computer. He wasn‛t sure he wanted to answer that question.

‟Jury is still out.‟ Elliot put his pen away, straightened the mess, and stood.

Tobias did the same. He pushed his hair back. ‟I‛ve always found genetics fascinating. You look like him, but you are so very different.‟

‟I‛ve done my share of crappy things.‟ Elliot was willing to live with the guilt, and he had a feeling that Tobias understood that perfectly. ‟Want a ride? It‛s snowing.‟

Tobias seemed to think about it. ‟St. Mark‛s is having this thing tonight. I‛m going there.‟

Elliot almost offered to take him, and then he bit it off. ‟You Catholic?‟

‟Uh, no. I don‛t think they‛d take me, but it seems to be the religion that I‛m most comfortable with.‟ Tobias went to get his coat, and Elliot followed him. They went out the door together, and Elliot was forced to admit that he liked him. Liked him.

‟Tobias, I don‛t blame you any longer.‟ Elliot tried to control the blush that wanted to creep up his neck.

Tobias stopped on the stairs. ‟Well, I probably blame me enough for both of us. You going home?‟

Elliot shrugged. That little apartment wasn‛t his home, but he wasn‛t going to bitch about it. He went towards his car and didn‛t look back. He‛d said enough. It‛d had taken a while but he knew why Chris had loved Tobias. He knew it all too well.

*********

Toby helped Father Michael put the chairs away. It was a small thing. Everyone else had places to go and people to see. He didn‛t. The less time he spent in his apartment the better. It was nice and all, but it was too close to Elliot‛s.

‟Thanks for your help, Tobias.‟

‟No problem, Father.‟ Toby racked the last chair. ‟Anything else you need done?‟

Father Michael laughed softly. ‟You‛ve done enough. But, we will see you on Sunday, right?‟

‟Of course.‟ Toby had started helping out with the dinner St. Mark‛s served on Sundays to the homeless. It was something to do, and he‛d rather do than sit around. He‛d sat around for years. He picked up his coat. ‟Just out of curiosity - do you know Detective Stabler?‟

‟Yes. Good man.‟ Father Michael shut off the lights, and they went out together. "Is he a friend of yours?"

Toby told the truth. ‟I don‛t think he likes me. I work in his precinct.‟

‟Really?‟ Father Michael looked slightly stunned now. ‟I had no idea.‟

‟It‛s part of my parole.‟ Toby hadn‛t told his ‛story‛ yet. He‛d spoken in broad generalities when asked. ‟I‛m an ex-con, Father.‟

Father Michael stopped walking. ‟I see.‟

Toby stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was ashamed, but it had been important to tell the truth. ‟I haven‛t been out very long.‟

‟I have the feeling that you‛re not Catholic so I won‛t burden you with a lecture about penance and confession.‟ Father Michael frowned.

‟Well, I‛ve heard it all before so I‛ll just fill in the blanks.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟You still want me to come on Sundays?‟

‟Now more than ever.‟ Father Michael nodded. He sighed. ‟Tobias, it‛s what you do today and tomorrow that‛s important. I‛m not going to condemn you for past sins.‟

Toby raised his eyebrows. ‟That‛s a first. Thanks, Father. I‛ll see you Sunday.‟ He trotted up the stairs and out the door. The snow was still swirling, and he started walking. The city was beautiful, but it was cold, and he zipped his coat. These last couple of weeks, he‛d found a small routine. He worked, he went to group, and he helped out at St. Mark‛s. It wasn‛t much, but the best part was Saturday. Angus hadn‛t missed a Saturday yet. A snowflake landed on Toby‛s face and he got the message. Tomorrow, he was out of luck. Emails and phone calls would have to be enough.

‟Hey! You trying to freeze to death?‟

Toby stopped and looked at the car. He sighed and got in. No use arguing about it. ‟Hey, El.‟

‟You nuts?‟

Toby laughed. ‟Snow is fun. Haven‛t seen it in a very long time.‟ He shivered into his coat and stuck his feet closer to the heater. ‟What the hell are you doing? Stalking me?‟

‟I was heading home when I saw your frozen ass.‟ Stabler - Elliot - laughed as if the idea was ridiculous, which it was.

Toby looked him over again. A little taller than Chris and stronger on the inside and handsome, even when he was tired. Elliot was . . . nice. It was disconcerting. Sure, he was stubborn and opinionated and a cop, but he was one of the good guys. That trip out to the pier had been a case in point. He should have shot him.

‟Stop staring,‟ Elliot growled.

‟Sorry,‟ Toby muttered. ‟My eyeballs are frozen.‟

Elliot drove faster, and they were at the apartment building quickly. They both checked their mail, and Toby was surprised that he had a letter, not just a bill. He smiled. Holly was a great kid. Elliot walked away without a look back.

Toby almost reached for him. ‟Thanks,‟ he said softly.

‟You got lucky.‟ And Elliot was gone into his apartment.

Toby went up to his with a small smile. He flipped on the lights, brewed some coffee, and read his letter. It made him warm on the inside. He hung it up with magnets on the fridge, got his coffee, and went back to his bedroom. Quickly, he changed into some sweats and a sweatshirt. It wasn‛t too early for bed, and while he was tired, he couldn‛t face the solitude of it. Not now. Later. He slept on the couch with the TV droning in the background more than he‛d ever admit. Sitting down on the couch, he reflected on the irony that was prison. He‛d always felt so alone, surrounded by hundreds of men, but this place, this place was solitary. He told himself that he liked it, but it rang a little false. It was a relief not to have to worry hourly about being shanked. However, he now understood why some men went straight back to prison. They couldn‛t deal with this - this - silence. He clicked on the TV at the same time there was a knock on the door.

‟Come in!‟ Toby knew who it was.

Elliot pushed open the door. He looked . . . unsure of himself. ‟Coffee?‟

‟Have some. I was cold.‟ Toby tucked his feet under his knees and turned on the news. He didn‛t ask why Elliot was here. He honestly didn‛t care. Just the sound of someone else breathing was welcome. With coffee, Elliot settled into the other end of the couch. He held out a picture. Toby took it. It was Chris, and he looked happy. ‟How old is he?‟

‟It was after he got out of Lardner.‟ Elliot took a sip. ‟It‛s the day we got our tattoos.‟

‟No shit?‟ Toby looked closer. Sure enough, there it was, all shiny and new. ‟That fucking liar. He told me he got it in Vegas!‟

‟Who said we weren‛t in Vegas?‟ Elliot raised one eyebrow. ‟I was just out of the service. Chris just out of prison. Kathy was mad as hell, but I went.‟

‟Wow. I‛d have murdered you.‟ Toby looked up and flushed. ‟If we were married.‟

Elliot laughed. ‟I think she wanted to, but I came home with more money than I‛d left with, and that settled her down.‟

‟Wait. You have one too?‟ Toby hadn‛t seen it.

‟Yep. Wanta look?‟ Elliot was teasing him. Toby was sure of it. He shook his head and tried not to picture it. Elliot and Chris seemed jumbled together for a second, and he couldn‛t decide if he should be ashamed that he found them both so damn attractive.

Toby focused on Las Vegas again - to get his mind out of the gutter - he knew that Elliot had won his money fairly, but Chris had been running ponzis. Chris hadn‛t mentioned that Elliot was there, but since they‛d been fighting, he wouldn‛t have. It had all been so fucked up.

‟He‛s so handsome,‟ he said softly.

‟You sure that ain‛t me?‟ Elliot looked extremely amused.

Toby looked again. Now he wasn‛t sure. He flipped it over. Chris Keller was written on the back. He smiled. ‟Where‛s your picture?‟

Elliot shrugged. He was concentrating on his coffee and the news now. Toby put the picture down between them. He‛d loved that man so damn much, and he didn‛t regret it, but it had ended so horribly. A big part of him never wanted to love or trust again, and that was a problem with Elliot in the picture now.

"What happened to Bonnie?" Toby asked softly. It was a loose end that had bothered him for longer than he‛d care to admit.

Elliot gave him a funny look. "Why?"

"Chris told me she was sick - cancer." Toby shouldn‛t have believed him. "I went to buy her some drugs and was arrested. Chris had called the police."

"I bet you were pissed." Elliot tilted his head. "That‛s why you were arguing with him."

"Yes." Toby wasn‛t going to lie about it now. "Bonnie - is she dead?"

Elliot bit his lower lip and then nodded. "Yeah. She had ovarian cancer. Never really had a chance by the time they found it." He hesitated. "You were doing a good thing for all the wrong reasons."

"Drugs are drugs." Toby wished he‛d have been smarter. Chris had manipulated him so easily. Toby stared at the young man in the picture. "I‛m over the anger. Now, I just . . . miss him."

The silence was as awkward as any he‛d ever sat through, but he didn‛t know what else to say. They drank their coffee and exchanged a few small glances. He was sorry that Bonnie was dead. It was barely possible that her illness had pushed Chris to make a decision that he wouldn‛t have otherwise. Toby knew cutting him slack was stupid, but he couldn‛t stop doing it.

‟You like working at the house?‟ Elliot asked quietly, interrupting Toby‛s thoughts.

‟It‛s not bad. Not exactly mentally challenging, but it‛s got to be better than working in fast food.‟ Toby liked it more than he‛d tell. ‟Cragen‛s a good guy.‟

‟Usually, but don‛t cross him.‟ Elliot sounded as if he knew. ‟Anyone still giving you shit?‟

Toby tilted his head to the side. ‟Why? Are you going to beat them up?‟

‟Just a short conversation.‟ Elliot grinned. Toby laughed like he was supposed to, but a tiny shiver skipped down his spine. Elliot finished, ‟Nowhere near water of course.‟

‟Of course.‟ Toby slipped his hand through his hair. He would be a fool to forget that Elliot was a dangerous man, like his cousin. Elliot operated on the right side of the law, but he was still capable of violence. Toby was very certain that he didn‛t want to involve himself again with that kind of man. ‟You lonely?‟

Elliot‛s grin slid away. He drank some more coffee. ‟You want me to leave?‟

‟Elliot, you scare me,‟ Toby said the first words that came to him, and he could see they‛d struck hard. ‟I don‛t know what you want and I don‛t know what you‛ll do to get it.‟

‟That‛s honest.‟ Elliot put his coffee down. ‟Keep the picture.‟

‟Thank you.‟ Toby wasn‛t going to turn it down. He didn‛t have anything of Chris‛s except a twinge in his right wrist when it was cold, like now. ‟I do like you though, and it worries me.‟

Elliot got to his feet, brushing his hands down his jeans. ‟I‛m worried too. I should hate your guts, but I don‛t.‟

Toby had no words to answer that. He was glad that Elliot didn‛t hate him. He‛d live longer. Elliot went to the door, but hesitated slightly. Toby couldn‛t smile. It wasn‛t in him.

‟Thanks.‟

Elliot gave him a short nod and was gone. Toby got up, locked the door, and went back to sit. He stared at the picture instead of the TV. It droned on.

*********

Elliot finished watching the news before he went to bed. He tossed and turned, wishing that there was a warm body next to him.

‟Damn,‟ he breathed into the dark. He was a fool.

*********

Toby felt a prickle at his neck and turned in his chair. Elliot, Munch, and Cragen were staring at him from over near Elliot‛s desk.

Elliot shook his head. ‟We usually use Fin.‟

‟He‛s worshipping the porcelain god.‟ Munch shrugged. ‟Toby‛s all we got.‟

Cragen sighed. ‟He‛s too preppy.‟

‟He‛s got the mouth,‟ Elliot said.

Toby got to his feet and went to them. ‟Guys, I can hear you.‟

Elliot rolled his eyes. ‟We need someone to go in lockup with our suspect. Pump him for information.‟

‟Fin is usually the guy for that.‟ Cragen put his hands on his hips. ‟Isn‛t Rodriquez here today?‟

‟Vacation,‟ Munch said. ‟Toby can do it.‟

Toby rubbed his face. ‟Do I have to?‟

Cragen shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‟No. If you don‛t want to help, go back to your desk and that‛s the end of it.‟

Elliot said nothing. Munch stared at the floor as if he‛d found something interesting. Toby knew he could do it, but he wasn‛t sure he wanted anyone to see that side of him.

‟Do I have your word that you‛ll let me out?‟ Toby was worried about that.

‟Those files aren‛t putting themselves away,‟ Elliot drawled - the smartass. ‟Trust me. I‛m coming to get you.‟

Toby caught the look of reassurance from Cragen. That helped him make up his mind. ‟I‛ll do it, but I want combat pay.‟

Cragen laughed. ‟I‛ll bring donuts tomorrow.‟

‟Good enough.‟ Toby took his glasses to his desk, pushed his hair back, and shook out his shoulders.

Elliot was suddenly right behind him. ‟You sure?‟ The words were soft and low and sent a shiver down Toby‛s spine to lodge in his groin.

‟Fill me in while we walk.‟ Toby trusted him, and it was more than scary. He listened to the run down on the way to the locker room. ‟So, you just want me to find out if he did it? That‛s all?‟

‟Sarcasm is ugly.‟ Elliot leaned against the wall. ‟You look too preppy. You mind if I get you a jumpsuit?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby wasn‛t doing that. He opened his locker. He‛d appropriated one without asking when he‛d started lifting weights after work. ‟I have some scruffy clothes here.‟

‟Unbelievable,‟ Elliot said with a laugh. ‟We can only hold him twenty-four hours without some evidence to book him. I need some leverage to help me in the room with him.‟

‟Hello. I was a lawyer.‟ Toby stripped down to his boxers. He folded everything neatly and stowed them in his locker. ‟Why will he talk?‟

‟He‛s nervous. I think he‛ll want to blow off some steam.‟

Toby put on his black wife-beater that he lifted weights in and his gray sweat pants. ‟Where the hell is his lawyer?‟

‟He hasn‛t asked for one.‟

‟I wonder why not? Hasn‛t he seen a cop show or two?‟ Toby tied his tennis shoes and looked at Elliot. ‟You read him his rights?‟

‟Of course!‟ Elliot looked mildly insulted. ‟Some perps are dumb. Trust me on that.‟

Toby wasn‛t convinced. ‟Okay. This is as bad as I get without skipping a shave or two.‟

‟Now you look scrawny, but still clean.‟ Elliot rubbed his face. ‟I ain‛t got any other options.‟

Toby flexed his arms. He was ready, and it was fun that Elliot didn‛t have a clue what was about to happen. They went out, and he waited until they had one corner left. He stopped. ‟Elliot, are you ready?‟

‟What for?‟ Elliot looked confused, and Toby nearly giggled.

‟Your job is to get me in that cell. Think you can do it?‟ Toby smiled. This was a change from filing and answering the phone. ‟You pussy bitch.‟

Elliot‛s eyes blazed, and the fight raged around the corner and down the hallway. Toby gave no quarter and asked for none. He cursed and fought until Elliot literally threw him into the cage. The door slammed hard, and Toby rushed back to rattle it.

‟You fucker! I‛ll get you for this!‟ Toby whipped around to curse at his cellmate. ‟Who the fuck are you?‟

‟Shit.‟ The guy, Leroy Butler, backed up. ‟Settle down. I ain‛t the enemy.‟

Toby rubbed his nose and sniffed. ‟Got any blow on you?‟

‟No!‟ Butler shook his head fiercely. ‟What are you here for?‟

Toby kicked the door again. This guy did want to talk. He paced back and forth. ‟Broke my fucking parole. I‛m fucking screwed now. Fucking Stabler!‟

Butler sat on the cot and put his back to the wall. ‟I didn‛t do shit, but here I am.‟

Toby laughed. Cursing at Elliot was fun. He pushed futilely against the fencing. ‟You think I‛m some stupid fuck? We‛re all guilty.‟

‟No. No. No. You‛re smart. I can see that.‟ Butler burrowed into his coat. He was scared. Toby knew a pussy when he saw one. Butler dropped his eyes. ‟I didn‛t do nothing. They ain‛t got nothing, and they have to let me go.‟

Toby didn‛t answer. He glared and paced some more. This might be easy. ‟You‛re the one who‛s a stupid fuck. Let you go? Right. Sheesh.‟

Butler nodded. ‟It‛s the law.‟

‟Cops do whatever the fuck they want since nine eleven.‟ Toby heaved out a huge sigh and slid down to sit on the floor. ‟Fuckers. God damn, I hate cops.‟

‟They keep us safe.‟

‟From pricks like me? Is that what you mean?‟ Toby flashed to his feet and got right in Butler‛s face. ‟You ain‛t no better than me!‟

Butler practically cowered. ‟I didn‛t do shit. I didn‛t! My wife up and disappears with some guy. She winds up dead, and they beat down my door.‟

‟Of course they did.‟ Toby rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. ‟You did it!‟

‟I didn‛t kill the bitch. I didn‛t even want to. She was gone, milking some other guy for all his money.‟ Butler wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‟I finally have two cents again.‟

‟That‛s why you killed her.‟ Toby did his best to look disgusted. ‟So she‛d stay gone, like forever. Hey, I understand. I killed my fair share of fucks who wanted my money. No big deal.‟

Butler bit his lip. ‟I didn‛t do it.‟

Toby sighed. He believed him. ‟You need a lawyer, ya stupid fuck.‟

‟I ain‛t giving him my money!‟ Butler put his head in his hands. ‟They have to let me go. They have to.‟

Toby groaned. ‟Damn. You‛re screwed, buddy.‟

Butler was about ready to cry. Toby let it drop. He knew the truth. Ten minutes turned into thirty, and finally, Elliot came down the hallway, unlocked the door, and said, ‟Come on, Butler. We need to talk.‟

Toby crossed his arms. ‟Go fuck him good, Stabler.‟

‟Shut yer yap, Beecher.‟ Elliot pointed at him. ‟Stay back or I‛ll kick your ass.‟

Toby laughed. ‟Kiss it instead.‟

Elliot slammed the door hard and locked it. Toby went to stretch out on the cot. His work was done.

*********

Elliot put Butler in a room, left someone with him, and stepped out to talk to Cragen. ‟Well?‟

‟Go get Beecher.‟

Elliot nodded. He opened the door and said, ‟Wake up, sunshine.‟

Tobias got up and stretched. ‟I think I‛m going to have a bruise.‟

‟You ain‛t the only one. Come on.‟ Elliot glared. They went back to Cragen without discussing the case.

Tobias didn‛t waste any time. ‟He didn‛t do it.‟

‟You‛re sure?‟ Cragen asked.

‟That guy still has faith in the justice system. Trust me. Get out there and find the real perp.‟ Tobias hooked his thumb at the window. ‟He can probably tell you who she was dating, but he didn‛t whack her.‟

Munch came up to join the conversation. ‟Toby‛s right. He didn‛t do it.‟

Elliot believed. He went in the room to get some information of him and get moving. The real perp was out there somewhere. It took the rest of the day and part of the night, but they cleared the case, and he was sitting at his desk yawning when Cragen came in with donuts. Tobias claimed the boxes, taking them upstairs, and Munch leaned his hip against Elliot‛s desk.

‟Toby can trash talk with the best of them. And he looked insane.‟ Munch laughed. ‟He‛s better than Fin.‟

Elliot had found time to watch the surveillance tape. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. ‟Butler about shit himself.‟

Munch nodded. ‟You got bruises?‟

‟A couple,‟ Elliot growled. ‟Tobias has really done the time. It wouldn‛t pay to forget it.‟

‟True.‟ Munch didn‛t look worried. ‟Want me to get you a donut?‟

‟Nah.‟ Elliot just wanted some sleep. He‛d wavered between alarmed and amused, watching Tobias on the tape. Tobias had shown a completely different side of himself. Someone who was slightly crazy. Elliot would bet anything that Chris had found that a turn on. Chris loved wildness. He loved people who weren‛t afraid to be crazy. Tobias came down the stairs with a donut and coffee.

Elliot raised his voice. ‟Tobias, did you enjoy kicking my ass?‟

‟I‛ve had less fun.‟ Tobias came over to Elliot‛s desk. ‟You thought I was a wimp.‟

‟Ya are a wimp.‟ Elliot smiled to see a spark of anger in Tobias‛s eyes. ‟Munch calls you Toby.‟

‟I noticed.‟ Tobias frowned. ‟Nuns and my mother call me Tobias. Oh, and Nazis.‟

Elliot didn‛t want to be grouped with nuns or Nazis. ‟So you prefer Toby?‟

‟I‛d prefer you didn‛t talk to me.‟ Tobias - Toby - grinned like a crazy man and walked off. Elliot rubbed his face and decided to go home. He needed about ten hours of sleep. ‟Hey, Cap, I‛m headed home.‟

Cragen nodded. ‟Good. Take tomorrow. OT is killing me this month.‟

Elliot cleared his desk. He had some files so he took them to Toby. ‟Good job with Butler.‟

‟Was Munch in the cell next to us?‟ Toby slapped the files down on a stack.

‟Two cells down. Yeah.‟ Elliot grinned. ‟You ain‛t a cop.‟

Toby stood, and they were face to face. ‟Go get some sleep. You look like hell.‟

‟Thanks.‟ Elliot wanted to say something else, but the words stuck. He picked up Toby‛s donut and took a bite.

‟I don‛t want that back.‟ Toby looked slightly disgusted, but then laughed softly. ‟Go home, El.‟

Elliot took the donut and left. They hadn‛t really said anything, but he knew Toby didn‛t hold the tussle on the way to lockup against him. It seemed important. Elliot went home. He was too tired not to sleep.

‟Chris, I like girls.‟

Chris grinned in his way. ‟So do I. But this ain‛t so bad.‟

‟It‛s a sin!‟ Elliot wanted to dash out the door. His aunt wasn‛t home, and Chris was up to his usual tricks. ‟We‛ll go to hell.‟

‟Going there anyway. Might as well have fun today.‟ Chris laughed. ‟Don‛t worry. He won‛t tell anyone.‟

‟How can you know that?‟ Elliot did not want a reputation as a butt lover.

‟I told him I‛d kill him.‟ Chris‛s eyes were wide - crazy looking.

Elliot was more scared than he‛d ever been in his life. ‟I gotta go. My dad‛s gonna beat my ass.‟

Chris shrugged. ‟Better hope he never fucks it.‟

Elliot hurried home. He hid in his room. Chris was headed for trouble, and Elliot didn‛t have the balls to go with him. His dad was right. He was a wimp.

Elliot thrashed awake; his breath coming hard in the dark. He sat up, rubbed his face, and got himself under control. It was a sin. He was going to hell. Shit.

********

Toby didn‛t see Elliot until the next evening. Group had ended early on account of the weather, and he went back to his apartment because he had nowhere else to go. He stopped dead right inside the door, wishing the earth would swallow him up.

‟Just wait one minute.‟ Elliot fumbled for his keys. ‟I wanna check my mail.‟

‟C‛mon, honey.‟ She was tall, like Elliot. Pretty. Blonde hair. Legs long enough to wrap around a man‛s waist. Toby swallowed hard - his cock hardened fast and his legs were so damn jealous.

Elliot got his mail. ‟All right. Now where were we?‟

She fondled and kissed him right there, and Toby pressed his back to the door. Maybe they wouldn‛t notice him.

‟Hey, Beech.‟ Elliot pulled his lips away.

‟Uh, hi.‟ It was Toby‛s turn to bumble his keys out. He tried very hard to focus on his mail, not her hand groping Elliot‛s groin. Elliot took her down the hallway, and Toby breathed out a sigh of relief. Toby‛s cock pulsed and he grabbed his mail to hurry up the stairs. He slumped on his couch and tossed his mail away. That lucky bitch.

********  
Chapter Four - Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot. Acts 20:35

Elliot worked the streets all morning, caught some lunch on the sidewalk, and ended up back at his desk by one. A pile of paperwork was waiting on him, and he glanced over at Benson. ‟I‛ll give you a twenty to fill out the fives on this one.‟

‟Forget it. I have to get ready for court tomorrow.‟ Benson didn‛t even look up. ‟Make Beecher do it.‟

Elliot was tempted. He looked over his shoulder. Toby wasn‛t at his desk. Elliot sighed. He was out of luck. Then he noticed the stack of files. It was higher than usual. Curiosity got the better of him and he wandered into Cragen‛s office.

‟Is Toby around?‟

Cragen shook his head. ‟Called in sick.‟

Elliot didn‛t quiz him further. Toby might have caught the flu from Fin or he might be drunk on his ass. Elliot went back to his paperwork. He‛d check on him later. The judge had wanted him to after all.

*********

Toby went to pack three times, and each time he chickened out. His stomach roiled again, and he dry-heaved in a convenient trash can. It might have been the flu, but he thought it was stress. Going to work and facing Elliot had been impossible. The leggy blonde still lingered in Toby‛s eyes. Toby didn‛t blame him, but it had reminded him so much of Chris and his adventures.

Chris. Toby swallowed hard and lowered his head into his arms. He was such a damn pussy. A real man would have gone to work, clapped Elliot on the back, and let him brag about the length of her legs. Maybe he could have done it before Elliot had forgiven him. That‛s what it had been - forgiveness. Toby had sucked it up like only a drunk could. He had pretended not to care, but it had been a lie. His stomach ached and he tried to sip some Sprite.

His luggage was still out on the bed, and he curled up around it. He was going to give up his children and a measure of freedom because Elliot had gotten laid? It seemed ridiculous. It was stupid. He put his arm over his eyes and tried to rest.

A pounding on the door jerked him awake, and he stumbled up and to the door. He yanked it open. ‟What the fuck do you want?‟

Elliot narrowed his eyes. ‟I‛m checking on you - like a good neighbor would.‟

‟You mean like a nosy cop would.‟ Toby felt his stomach lurch, and he abandoned the door for the bathroom. He couldn‛t hear or see for a moment, and he sagged when his body had finished betraying him. ‟Fuck,‟ he whispered. He knew he had the flu now, but Elliot definitely wasn‛t making it any better.

‟Damn. You‛re sick. Here I thought you were drunk.‟ Elliot handed him a wet towel.

‟No such luck,‟ Toby said and sat on the floor. He wiped his face, leaning his head back. ‟I have money. Take some and leave.‟

Elliot laughed. ‟You‛re bribing me?‟

Toby groaned. He shut his eyes and prayed for death. ‟Yeah.‟

Elliot helped him up and took him back to the bed. ‟You‛re moving out? Today? While yer puking?‟

‟Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.‟ Toby tried to hide his head. He also wanted Elliot to leave and never come back. ‟If I throw a donut out the door, will you chase it?‟

‟Got any donuts?‟ Elliot leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets and a slight smile on his face. He looked good, and Toby thought he couldn‛t be too sick if he could still notice. Elliot zipped the luggage back up and tossed it in the closet. ‟You‛re not moving out.‟

Toby wished he had the strength to curse him.

‟I‛m gonna go change clothes. I‛ll be back.‟ Elliot must have left, but it seemed as if he were back quickly. ‟Can you keep anything down?‟

‟Go away,‟ Toby muttered. He just wanted to rest. Elliot made a funny sound. He felt Toby‛s forehead, muttered something, and left the room. Toby‛s shoulder was shaken. ‟What?‟

‟Take these.‟

Toby managed to sit up, take the Tylenol, and sip the water. ‟Nurse Rachted, please smother me.‟

Elliot laughed at him. Toby didn‛t argue as he was manhandled under the covers. He held his aching stomach and tried to breathe shallow. Elliot pushed Toby‛s hair off his face.

‟Fin said it was a twenty-four hour thing.‟

Toby tried to be comforted. Even in his dazed state, he was keenly aware of how Elliot‛s fingers had felt on him. ‟You get laid?‟

Elliot coughed. ‟We ain‛t discussing my sex life.‟

Toby took that for a yes. He‛d been stupid to ask, but it had been all he‛d thought about since his seen that blonde stroking her fingers across Elliot‛s bulge. Damn. ‟I haven‛t had sex in years,‟ he said softly. ‟Two or three. I don‛t know.‟

‟You might as well be married.‟ Elliot sounded close, and Toby opened his eyes to see him in a chair near the bed. ‟Sleep instead of talk.‟

Toby shut his eyes again. ‟I have seven months to go.‟

‟I know.‟

Toby was surprised by that. Elliot knew? Was it possible that he cared? Toby hated to even guess about that. The fucker had gotten laid after all. His thoughts finally slowed down, and he slept.

********

Elliot wandered out to the television after Toby fell asleep. Toby was clearly exhausted from puking all day. He‛d sleep all night. Elliot turned on the news and got comfortable on the couch. He hoped to hell that he didn‛t get this damn bug that was going around.

The cell phone on the coffee table rang, and Elliot decided to answer it. He saw that it was Angus Beecher before he opened it. ‟Hello, Angus. Toby‛s sick.‟

‟Who is this?‟ Angus sounded confused, but nothing like Toby.

Elliot hesitated, but he was an honest man. ‟Elliot Stabler.‟

‟What the hell are you doing to him?‟ Angus went right to being pissed off. ‟I‛m calling the police.‟

‟I am the police.‟ Elliot made sure his voice was calm. ‟He‛s fine. Got this bug that‛s going around the precinct. I came over to check on him.‟

‟And kill him? Make it look like an accident?‟ Angus was not settling down.

Elliot sighed. ‟Give me a damn break.‟

‟No. You‛re an awful person, just like Chris Keller,‟ Angus spat. ‟Get the hell out of there.‟

Elliot nearly shut the phone, but something held him back. ‟Don‛t bring the kids tomorrow. He‛s too sick and probably contagious.‟

Angus took a deep breath. Elliot heard him. ‟If he turns up dead, I will come after you.‟

‟Good to know. Later.‟ Elliot turned off the phone. He slowly put it back on the coffee table. Angus might make the drive into the city. Elliot sighed softly and rubbed his face. He had treated Toby badly, but that was behind them. They were friends. Weren‛t they? Sure, Toby didn‛t like to look at him, and he was rude a lot of the time, but that was nothing. Unless he really didn‛t like him. Elliot figured he probably deserved some hatred and scorn. Shit.

Elliot checked on Toby on and off throughout the night, forcing Tylenol on him twice more. Toby had a fever, but he seem to be through puking. That was good. He muttered some curse words each time Elliot woke him. It was no surprise. He had to feel like shit.

‟Damn blonde groping you,‟ Toby muttered. ‟Who the fuck does she thinks she is?‟

Elliot got a washcloth and wiped Toby‛s face. Toby was half-asleep, fevered, and exhausted. He didn‛t know what he was saying. Elliot told himself that twice. He would not feel guilty about finally getting laid. He‛d used a condom. It had felt pretty good. He was a man, damn it. Not a pansy. Not a butt lover. He groaned and leaned his own face into the washcloth.

Toby patted him on the knee. ‟It‛s okay.‟

Elliot looked up quickly, but Toby‛s eyes were shut. ‟Go to sleep.‟

Toby smiled. When he really smiled, it was handsome on him. Usually, he faked it or looked pyschotic just to mess with people. Elliot left him to sleep some more. The night crawled, and Elliot fell asleep some time after the TV finally went to snow.

********

Toby had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes. Not his pod. Not his cell. Definitely not the hole. What the fuck?

‟Think you could eat some toast?‟

‟Chris?‟ Toby‛s brain clanged with shock. It kicked in two seconds later. ‟Elliot.‟

‟Got it in two tries.‟ Elliot didn‛t look amused. ‟Toast?‟

‟No. Thanks.‟ Toby threw the covers back and put his feet on the floor. He was surprised when the room spun once before settling. He knew where he was now. The sheets smelled of sweat, but he thought his fever was gone. He felt as weak as a kitten. ‟You‛re here?‟

‟Yes.‟ Elliot caught him when he stood up. Toby was ashamed that he clung to him, but Elliot didn‛t push him away. ‟Got it?‟

Toby locked his knees. ‟Yeah. Thanks.‟ He managed to get moving towards the bathroom. ‟I‛m sorry.‟

Elliot was right with him. ‟You were sick.‟

‟Guess so.‟ Toby straightened his spine. ‟Okay. I‛m not going to pass out. Let me clean up.‟

‟And then you can try to eat.‟ Elliot didn‛t follow him in the bathroom.

Toby cringed. He‛d try. First, he brushed his teeth. And then he took a shower, leaning against the wall part of the time, but it felt good to be clean. Wrapping a towel firmly around his hips, he made it back to his bedroom. The sheets were gone. Clean ones were on, and Toby let his legs give up.

‟At least you‛re clean.‟ Elliot smiled.

Toby stared at the face he‛d loved. He‛d loved Chris. He didn‛t feel anything for this man. Not one thing. He was empty. Fuck. He was a damn liar. ‟I just need some more sleep,‟ he said stupidly.

Elliot tossed him some boxers and waited. Toby stared down at them. Finally, he sighed, stripped off the towel and put them on. Elliot had seen the entire package now. Not that he‛d care. Toby crawled under the covers. He shoved his hair back and shut his eyes.

‟I‛ll be here,‟ Elliot said, scooping up the towel.

Toby kept those words close. He wasn‛t alone, and he slept again, exhausted.

*********

Elliot got the door quickly before it woke up Toby.

‟I‛ll be damned.‟ The tall, blond man‛s eyes widened. ‟Chris Keller in the flesh.‟

‟Not exactly.‟ Elliot didn‛t like the look on this guy‛s face. ‟Who are you?‟

‟Angus Beecher.‟ Angus put his hand on the door. ‟I‛ll give you five seconds to get the hell out.‟

Elliot couldn‛t resist the bait. ‟Or what?‟

‟Or I‛ll shoot you dead with the gun that I‛m licensed to carry.‟ Angus meant it. Elliot was smart enough to see it.

‟I‛m a cop. Not a smart choice.‟

‟A cop that‛s trespassing and has a grudge against my brother and attempted to murder him once already.‟ Angus wasn‛t pulling his punches. ‟I‛m at three.‟

Elliot didn‛t rush. He made sure he had his cell phone. ‟He‛s asleep. Don‛t wake him.‟

‟Two.‟

Elliot waited another second and then left. Forcing a confrontation would be stupid, and Angus was clearly angry. Whether or not he had a gun, he was dangerous. Elliot went to his apartment. He wasn‛t due at work today. He‛d sleep for a few hours. Toby was going to be fine. He was. Elliot would see him at work.

*********

Toby stretched and woke up again. He felt stronger. ‟Angus?‟

‟How are you, big brother?‟ Angus moved from the chair to the bed. ‟You look like shit.‟

‟Thanks.‟ Toby fought to sit up, and Angus helped him. ‟You‛re here?‟

Angus laughed. ‟Of course. You should‛ve called.‟

Toby felt slightly ashamed. He timidly told the truth. ‟I didn‛t want to bother you.‟

‟Tobias, you‛re my family. You‛re not a bother.‟ Angus shook him. ‟You‛re stuck down here in the city alone, and we all worry about you.‟

‟At least I‛m not in Oz,‟ Toby said tiredly. ‟Where‛s Elliot?‟

‟I told him to get out or I‛d shoot him.‟ Angus was fierce, angry.

Toby stared at him. When had his brother become so grown up? And stupid? ‟Shoot him? He‛s a cop.‟

‟He was trespassing,‟ Angus growled.

‟You carry a gun?‟ Toby couldn‛t believe it.

‟Yes.‟ Angus nodded. ‟He‛s nothing but another Keller. Toby, we have to get you out of here now that he knows where you live.‟

Toby remembered that he‛d neglected to tell his brother a few things. ‟He lives downstairs. He found me this apartment.‟

Angus stared. He moved back to the chair and stared some more.

‟I have to piss.‟ Toby got up shakily and went. He took care of his business, washed his hands, and wished he could stay in here and avoid his brother. When he came out, he found some sweat pants and a shirt before hitting the couch. Angus brought him some coffee. ‟Thanks.‟

‟You‛re welcome.‟ Angus sat down close by. ‟Why are you living here?‟

‟Angus, there‛s nowhere I can hide. My parole officer told me as much. Elliot‛s a cop. He can bend me over any time he likes. At least this place is close to work and nice enough.‟ Toby blew on it and took a sip. His stomach didn‛t protest, and he sighed happily. That was better. ‟And I can‛t buy a gun.‟

‟Shit.‟ Angus got up and began to pace. ‟You call him Elliot. Do you like him?‟

Toby wasn‛t sure what to say, but he had to think of something. ‟I work in his precinct. He‛s not that bad of a guy. Stubborn, opinionated, and inclined to have a temper; but he‛s a good cop.‟

‟He tried to kill you.‟ Angus sat back down.

‟He wanted answers. He never intended to hurt me. I didn‛t know that until later.‟ Toby was too tired to be hashing this out, but he had no choice in the matter. He drank some more coffee and waited for his brother to ask more questions that he‛d rather not answer.

Angus got back up, fixed him some toast, and brought it to him. ‟Try to eat.‟

‟Thanks.‟ Toby nibbled it. He hoped it stayed down. ‟Angus, I‛m doing pretty well. I haven‛t had a drink, and I don‛t hate my job. Father Michael at St. Mark‛s is a good guy, and frankly, I live for Saturdays.‟

‟Your life in a nutshell.‟ Angus came to sit down with his own coffee. ‟They should have let you come home.‟

Toby didn‛t answer right away. He ate a little bit and drank some coffee. ‟They didn‛t. I‛m stuck.‟ He took a deep breath and asked the question that he‛d never had the courage to ask on the phone. ‟Do you think Mother will ever come see me?‟

Angus looked at him sharply. ‟You know she hates the city.‟

‟I know.‟ Toby resolved to drop it. He‛d spoken to her on the phone. It was enough. ‟How‛s the job?‟

‟It‛s good. I may make partner before I‛m forty.‟ Angus crossed his legs. He looked uneasy. ‟Do you need to go to a doctor?‟

‟No.‟ Toby felt a small amount of energy now that he‛d eaten. ‟I know it‛s hard to come every week.‟

‟It is. I can‛t promise every weekend. You need to convince your parole officer to let you come to Connecticut on weekends.‟ Angus spoke calmly, but his eyes shifted, and Toby knew that he was about out of weekends with his kids. Angus was a busy man. Toby hadn‛t really seen it before today, and it made him ache again for years lost. He sipped at his coffee. His life wasn‛t really his. His parole officer owned most of it, and Angus the rest.

‟Fuck,‟ Toby whispered. He noticed Angus‛s quick look of surprise. ‟If I petition for custody, will you fight it?‟

Angus put his coffee down and leaned forward. His eyes were very blue. ‟Yes. I will. Don‛t.‟

Toby heard him loud and clear. If he pissed off his brother, he was shit out of luck. ‟Sorry. I just really miss them.‟

‟I understand. They‛re starting to trust you again. Holly wants you to get a webcam.‟ Angus looked uncomfortable again. ‟I promised her one for her birthday.‟

‟Let me get it for her.‟ Toby was about ready to fall sleep again. ‟Please.‟

‟Fine.‟ Angus shifted and got to his feet. ‟Are you going to be okay?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby stood. ‟Thanks for coming to check on your fucked up brother.‟

Angus gave him a quick hug and started for the door. ‟My job. I‛ll call.‟

Toby clenched his jaw and did nothing more than wave. He would not curse out his brother - the prick. Angus had gone from worried and helpful to helpful and patronizing very quickly. He no doubt felt a burden. Toby sat back down on the couch. He‛d sleep here. There had to be a way to see his kids without making his brother do all the work. He fell asleep before he thought of a good argument for his parole officer.

*********

Elliot checked his watch. It was ten p.m. He‛d had a nice evening with his kids - all of them for a change. Now he was back at his apartment, and he couldn‛t help but wonder if Toby was doing better. He went upstairs, hesitated, and then knocked. No answer. Nothing. He knocked again, but when he still heard nothing, he became worried. Slowly, he opened the door. It wasn‛t locked.

‟Toby?‟

Toby was on the couch - sound asleep. He‛d curled up with the TV on, and Elliot would admit some relief. He shut the door quietly and went to him. Toby suddenly opened his eyes. He stretched. ‟Hey, El.‟

Elliot looked around the apartment. ‟Is your gun-toting brother around?‟

‟He left a long time ago.‟ Toby sat up and yawned. ‟He wouldn‛t really shoot you.‟

‟Right.‟ Elliot brazenly put his hand to Toby‛s forehead. ‟No fever. Did you vomit today?‟

‟Nah. I‛m fine, just wiped out.‟ Toby rubbed his face. ‟Go home, bang your girlfriend, and forget about me.‟

Elliot sat down instead. He wasn‛t leaving. ‟I don‛t have a girlfriend, and I think you need to eat.‟

********

Toby groaned dramatically, but he was a little hungry. However, he didn‛t want to ask to be waited on hand and foot and shuffling to the fridge would take too much energy. ‟I‛m about out of time,‟ he said to himself, thinking of his children. Every waking moment of this day, he‛d worried about that situation.

Elliot raised his eyebrows. ‟Why were you packing?‟

Toby shook his head. ‟We‛re not discussing it. Believe or not, I have shit in my life that you don‛t know about.‟

‟So tell me. Maybe I can give you a hand.‟ Elliot got to his feet and went to the kitchen. ‟You need to drink lots of fluids. That‛s what Kathy always says.‟

Toby listened to him bang around. The longer he lived here, the more he‛d have it rubbed in his face how much he wanted him. If he was out of weekends, the halfway house would be fine, except that it sucked. Maybe, just maybe, Lennon would be reasonable and let him go to Connecticut. He could see his mother and apologize again for things he‛d done that had hurt her.

‟Tell me.‟ Elliot handed him some juice.

‟Thanks.‟ Toby sipped it to stall for time. ‟Angus is pretty fed up with me. I‛m the wastrel brother.‟

Elliot went back to the kitchen. ‟That means no kids on the weekend, right?‟

‟He has full custody.‟ Toby had signed it away, and it had been the right thing to do, but now he regretted it.

‟You could fight it.‟ Elliot brought him a mug of something that smelled like soup. ‟Drink all of that.‟

‟Yes, ma‛am.‟ Toby enjoyed the spark in Elliot‛s eyes. ‟I‛d lose.‟

‟So you were going to snatch them and run.‟ Elliot sat down in the chair across from the couch. ‟I see a lot of that.‟

Toby hadn‛t even considered it. He put the juice down and sucked up the chicken noodle soup. It was warm and helped fill the ache in his belly. ‟Sure.‟

‟That wasn‛t the plan." Elliot sighed. "You don‛t lie very well.‟

Toby didn‛t lie very well to Elliot, and he didn‛t want to analyze why. ‟I didn‛t think of it is all. I should‛ve talked to you earlier. Now you‛ll report me.‟

‟Don‛t make me.‟ Elliot stretched his long legs out and laced his hands across his stomach. ‟So what are you going to do?‟

‟I don‛t know.‟ Toby wrapped his hands a little tighter around the mug. The warmth felt good. ‟I do understand why people skip out on parole. No one bothers to look for them.‟

Elliot groaned. ‟But if you‛re caught, your ass will be shipped back to Oz.‟

‟Good point.‟ Toby did want to avoid that. ‟And I can‛t visit my kids if I‛m living in the Bahamas.‟

‟No. You can‛t.‟ Elliot leaned up. ‟You have to serve your time, Toby. That‛s what it comes down to. When you‛re done, you can go home to your kids.‟

Toby nodded to give Elliot some satisfaction, not because he agreed. ‟It sucks. I‛m so close and yet I‛m still in prison.‟

‟At least your chances of getting shanked are less.‟ Elliot pointed. ‟Drink your soup. The stack of files on your desk is about over my head.‟

‟Shit.‟ Toby didn‛t talk again until the soup was gone. He was full, completely. ‟I‛m going to bed. Thanks for dropping by.‟

Elliot stood. ‟You mean that? Or are you being a smartass?‟

Toby shrugged. ‟I appreciate you helping me while I was sick. I owe you one.‟

‟Let‛s hope you don‛t have to return the favor.‟ Elliot opened the door. ‟And lock the door.‟

Toby nodded and did just that. He grabbed his juice and went to bed. Comfortable and feeling much better, he relaxed in the dark. It was all about time served. Elliot was right. Toby just had to figure out if he could serve it staring at Elliot‛s ass.

*********

Elliot went to early Mass the next morning. It had been awhile, and the ritual made him feel better about his place in the universe. There was no communion, and he was glad because he didn‛t want to go to confession. That never went well.

Father Michael caught him near the door. ‟Elliot, it‛s good to see you.‟

‟Nice sermon, Father.‟ Elliot went with that. ‟How‛s the building fund coming?‟

‟Good. Good.‟ Father Michael pulled him slightly aside. ‟I need to ask you a question.‟

Elliot nearly groaned, but he raised his eyebrows and waited for it.

‟Is Tobias Beecher a friend of yours?‟

Elliot‛s jaw nearly dropped open. The truth unexpectedly popped out. ‟Yes. Is he giving you trouble?‟

‟No.‟ Father Michael laughed and seemed relieved. ‟He spends more time here helping than some of our parishioners. He mentioned your name. I was just concerned.‟

Elliot was curious now. ‟You mean because he‛s an ex-con?‟

Father Michael nodded.

‟Toby works hard at the precinct. I don‛t think you have to worry about him.‟ Elliot pushed for one answer. ‟Did he say we were friends?‟

‟Quite the opposite. He‛s sure you don‛t like him. It concerned me.‟

Elliot was at a loss for words. He‛d thought that Toby had been name dropping. But, obviously not.

Father Michael gave him a pat on the arm. ‟Good to know you trust him.‟ And he went to greet someone else. Elliot almost went after him to say that trust might be taking it a bit far, but he didn‛t. Toby wouldn‛t hurt anyone, right?

Elliot headed for work. He‛d check on Toby later.

*********

Toby slept most of the morning and then dragged himself to the shower. He‛d promised Father Michael that he‛d be there, so he was going. He did feel better, just tired, but well enough. If he worked a little slower than usual, no one seemed to notice, and he was very glad that they put him to serving Jello, not the meat loaf. His stomach felt fragile.

By the time he got home, he was tired. The couch was far enough, and he kicked off his shoes. The knock at the door was annoying. He just wanted to hide.

‟Go away!‟

Elliot pushed open the door. ‟You must be feeling better.‟

Toby leaned his head back and wanted to cry. It seemed to be his destiny to be harassed by dark-haired men. ‟Really, go away.‟

‟Why do you smell like meat loaf?‟

Toby had to laugh. He looked at him. ‟I helped serve at St. Mark‛s. I didn‛t have any of the meat loaf though. I stuck to the bread and Jello.‟

Elliot frowned. ‟You‛re barely well enough to stand!‟

‟I made a promise. I kept it.‟ Toby smelled his shirt and decided to peel it off. The pants were next, and he shucked them off without thinking. There was a blanket on the back of the couch, and he pulled it over himself and lay down. That was better. He might live now. He glanced at Elliot.

Elliot looked away, cleared his throat, and went back to the door. ‟I‛ll leave you alone.‟

‟Thanks.‟ Toby shut his eyes. He had to sleep. Elliot shut the door. Toby sighed. He refused to interpret that uncomfortable look as anything hopeful. Elliot didn‛t play on Toby‛s team. Toby nearly laughed. He knew better, but Elliot was a man now. It made a difference. Sleep wasn‛t in any rush, and Toby wished he knew what to do.

*********

Elliot got out of the apartment early the next morning. He waited at the bottom of steps. Toby stopped at the top. Elliot nodded. ‟Come on.‟

‟If the other guys find out, there‛ll be talk.‟ Toby smirked.

Elliot smirked back at him. ‟There‛s always the pier.‟

‟Don‛t tease me. At some point this weekend, a bullet would have been a mercy killing.‟ Toby came down one step at a time. He looked a little pale, but he‛d make it. Elliot was sure of that. He stopped and got them good coffee. Toby took it with a smile. ‟Thanks.‟

Elliot nodded and drove to work. They hung up their coats and went to their desks. Elliot didn‛t look over his shoulder. He worked. Later, up in the lounge, he bought a soda and sat down to go through some phone records.

‟Toby looks a little green around the gills,‟ Munch said, pouring himself some coffee.

‟I hope I don‛t get it.‟ Elliot searched for his pen and found it. He started marking.

Munch sat down across from him. ‟I know he killed your cousin, but I get the feeling you like him.‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟He‛s all right, and he didn‛t kill Chris.‟

‟If you say so.‟ Munch tapped the table. ‟You know which team he bats for?‟

‟What?‟ Elliot looked up and caught the wicked gleam in Munch‛s eye. ‟Ask him.‟

‟And get punched in the nose? I don‛t think so.‟ Munch took his coffee and left. Elliot put his attention in the phone records and tried not to think about baseball.

*********

Toby was tired at the end of the day. Five o‛clock found him with his head on his arms, resting on his desk. His only thought was breathing.

‟Go home, Beecher,‟ Cragen said as he walked past.

Toby raised his hand in acknowledgement. He got out his calendar, marked off the day, and check for appointments. Tonight at six, he had to meet with his parole officer. Shit. He heard his stomach growl and sighed. Food was necessary now. He‛d skipped lunch. Maybe he could make it on a breakfast bar.

Walking out to the hallway, he bought one from the snack machine. He leaned against the wall to eat it. Benson and Elliot came by, deep in conversation, and he watched them. They weren‛t lovers, more like brother and sister, but he did wonder if Elliot had ever given it a try. She wasn‛t friendly to Toby, not that he cared. As long as she wasn‛t beating on him, it didn‛t matter what she thought.

‟He broke the restraining order,‟ Benson hissed.

‟He swears it was an accident.‟ Elliot shook his head. ‟I think the guy‛s trying to get his head on straight.‟

‟You always take the side of the guy.‟

‟You always think I‛m wrong.‟

Toby swallowed. He had to say something. ‟Did you get him a lawyer?‟

‟Shut up, Beecher,‟ Benson snapped and glared.

Elliot rubbed his hand through his hair. ‟Easy, Olivia. Toby‛s right. Let‛s give the guy his phone call and let the courts deal with it.‟

Benson was very pretty. Toby had noticed it, but she could look very mean, and she did right now.

‟And when did you get all cozy with a drunk who‛s responsible for killing a child? Not to mention your cousin in a lovers‛ spat? And God knows who else?‟

Toby went back to his desk. He wasn‛t getting in the middle of this argument, even if it was about him. Shoving in his chair, he went to get his coat. He went out the door into the last remains of the day. It was January now, and it grew dark early still. Here in Manhattan, the sun was barely able to squeeze down in the crevices that the skyscrapers made. He took a deep breath of city air. Wet. Cold. Burrowing into his coat, he looked up and down the street for a cab. The words didn‛t hurt, not really, he‛d known that Benson didn‛t like him. The curl of her lip had made that clear.

A light mist began to fall, and he spotted a cab. It stopped for him, thank goodness, and he gave directions. He was a little early, and he found a magazine to read. There were two other guys still waiting, and they looked a hell of lot tougher than he did. Lennon came out, looked around, called one of them, and Toby stuck his head back in his magazine.

‟Beecher!‟

Toby tossed it aside and went in the office. ‟Hey, Lennon. How‛s the bar business?‟

‟You‛re a funny guy.‟ Lennon rubbed his beard. ‟Going to your meetings?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby knew that Lennon checked up on him. ‟I‛m staying out of bars too.‟

‟Good idea.‟ Lennon didn‛t looked amused. ‟How‛s work?‟

‟Fine.‟ Toby took a chance. ‟Can we discuss the possibility of me going to Connecticut to see my kids on the weekend?‟

Lennon looked stunned. ‟You think I‛m going to let you leave the state?‟

‟Just for a few hours. I‛ll be back the same day.‟ Toby tried not to look pathetically eager, but he was. ‟Please?‟

‟I don‛t think it‛s a good idea.‟ Lennon flipped through Toby‛s file. ‟Same address, right?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby suddenly had a thought. ‟You could have Stabler check on me. Make sure that I‛m home on Saturday nights.‟

‟Why the hell would he want to do that?‟ Lennon shook his head. ‟Forget it. You stay sober another couple of months and I‛ll consider it.‟

Toby knew that was as much as he was going to get. ‟Thanks.‟

Lennon made a few notes before pointing at the door. ‟Go on, and Beecher, if you quit that job, you can forget it.‟

Toby nodded and felt like slinking out the door. He had a glimmer of hope, if he put in his time at the precinct. Back out on the street, he walked in the rain until he found an overhang in front of a bodega. He ducked under it and watched the puddles grow in the street. Blaming Chris for all of this was slightly irrational, but he was tempted to do just that. He rubbed his hand through his hair, took off his glasses, and cleaned them. Damn, he was tired, and to get to his kids, he‛d have to face Elliot every work day. Fuck.

********

Cragen came over to their desks. He looked somewhere between angry and fed up. ‟Olivia, Elliot, I don‛t care if you fight about Beecher, but do it where he can‛t hear.‟

Benson tapped her pencil. ‟Why?‟

Elliot thought she was slightly crazy to ask. Cragen put his hands on his hips. ‟Beecher‛s doing a good job and trying to stay sober. I‛d appreciate it if you didn‛t humiliate him in front of the entire squad.‟

Elliot raised his eyebrows. Cragen liked Toby. Now that was interesting. Elliot said with more than a touch of sarcasm, ‟And if he quits, we have to start filing again.‟

‟I just think he should find a job more appropriate to his past.‟ Benson was really pushing her luck. Elliot had a feeling this was all about her mother, but he wasn‛t going to say a word. He wasn‛t that dumb.

‟He was a lawyer. You expect him to go work at the docks?‟ Cragen fired right back at her. ‟Or maybe you think all drunks should work in bars?‟

Elliot cringed slightly. He wanted to get his coat and go home on that note. ‟I don‛t have a problem with keeping it down in the future.‟

‟Olivia?‟

She gave a short nod, but Elliot knew she‛d do what she wanted. Cragen went back to his office, and she hissed, ‟Suck up.‟

He rubbed his face. ‟He ain‛t got much longer, and he‛s gone. Give it a rest.‟

‟What do you mean?‟

‟The judge sentenced him to work here for nine months. He has about seven left, and he‛ll be gone. Trust me. Why the hell would he want to work here?‟ Elliot wasn‛t looking forward to that day, but it was coming. ‟Minimum wage? Ridiculous.‟

‟He‛s wealthy, so that doesn‛t mean anything.‟ Benson started clearing her desk. ‟He‛ll get drunk or do drugs. It‛s coming. I hope no one dies this time.‟

Elliot leaned back in his chair and watched her leave. There was no way to answer that. He hoped she was wrong, and he‛d do what he could to make sure that Toby stayed clean. Elliot had failed utterly with Chris, but he might have a chance with Toby. The squadroom emptied, and he still sat, thinking of better days and hoping that Chris was in a better place.

********

Toby was ready for work, but he didn‛t want to go. He lingered over his coffee and wondered if he could call in sick again.

A strong knock at his door told him that he was out of time. ‟Let‛s go, Toby!‟

Toby wished Elliot would call him something else, like Beechball or prag or something degrading. It had to be possible not to like him, not to want to hold him. It had to be. Toby washed out his mug, got his coat, and pulled open the door. Elliot looked tired. His eyes were dark again.

‟Keep your shorts on. I was going to walk.‟

‟It‛s raining.‟ Elliot went toward the stairs but waited.

Toby locked his door and made up his mind to be rude. He was going to treat Elliot like shit. He‛d done it to Chris, easily. Elliot would hit him, they‛d agree to hate each other, and the next six months and twenty-eight days might be doable. Toby nodded. It was a plan. The only other alternative was to beg him for sex. And that wasn‛t happening. He took his glasses off and stuffed them in his coat pocket before they went out the door to the car.

‟I‛ve had plenty of time to think and I‛ve decided to find another place to live.‟ Toby saw Elliot‛s jaw clench. This was a good start. ‟You are going to leave me alone. Got it?‟

Elliot furrowed his brow. Toby nearly groaned. He hadn‛t been rude at all. He‛d done nothing more than confuse him. Shit.

‟Is this about what Benson said yesterday? Cragen told her, and me, to back off. He must like you.‟ Elliot turned the heater up. ‟Damn, it‛s cold.‟

Toby clenched his hands together. ‟This is about every time I turn around, you‛re trying to wipe my ass. I‛m finding another place to live, and you‛re not going to harass me!‟

Elliot got them moving. He didn‛t reply until after he‛d parked the car at the precinct. ‟Your ass needs wiping. Not my damn fault.‟

Toby got out, slammed the door, and went to work. He‛d started it, but Elliot had put a stop to it. Elliot thought Toby was a damn baby. Fuck him. Toby put on his glasses and hung up his coat, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He was pissed. Elliot looked calm. Well, Elliot was a prick.

‟Beecher, I took a call for you early this morning.‟ Cragen frowned. ‟Here‛s the message.‟

Toby thanked him and took it. He read it twice, went to his desk, and sat down with a thump. ‟Shit.‟

‟Would you care to explain?‟ Cragen had followed him.

Toby bit his lower lip. ‟I owe Ryan O‛Reily a favor. He just called it in.‟ He smoothed the message out and read it one more time.

My cousin, Liam O‛Reily, has been arrested. Get him off. You owe me, lawboy.

‟Not on my time,‟ Cragen said.

‟Can I start my day at noon?‟ Toby had to ask. A deal was a deal. ‟So I can at least look into this?‟

Cragen narrowed his eyes. ‟Noon to eight will be fine. You‛ve started to gain a little respect around here. Don‛t blow it.‟

‟I owe him.‟ Toby hated this, but he didn‛t have any choice. ‟Thanks.‟

‟Don‛t thank me.‟ Cragen went to his office. Toby used his computer to find out where Liam was and what he‛d been charged with. It was going to be ugly, and Liam was going to need a real lawyer. Toby reconciled himself to the fact that he‛d be going to Oz this month.

Elliot dropped some files on Toby‛s desk. ‟What‛s going on?‟

Toby hit the print button. ‟Stabler, I don‛t like you. I don‛t want you in my face. Back off.‟ It was the harshest that he could be, and he still wanted to kill himself for saying those lies.

‟Liar,‟ Elliot said softly. ‟Are you really moving out?‟

‟You don‛t care. Leave me the fuck alone.‟ Toby grabbed everything and practically ran out the door. He didn‛t have much time.

********

Elliot went back to his desk after stealing the note that Toby had left behind. He tried to ignore how much those words hurt. Toby really thought that? He had to be lying. Elliot ran the name through the database and stared. Liam O‛Reily had been arrested on assault. He was a dirtbag, part of the Irish gang that scratched out a living over on the East Side. Toby had a debt to pay to this Ryan O‛Reily fellow. Shit. This was the kind of thing that landed parolees back in prison. One step in the wrong direction and it was a long fall.

Elliot wasn‛t going to let that happen, and he‛d keep pushing at Toby until the truth came out. They were friends. Toby might as well get used to it.

********

Toby cleaned the lounge last. It was past eight, but he didn‛t care. The squadroom was quiet, and he liked it that way. When he finished, he stretched out on the sofa and put his arm over his eyes. He was still tired from the flu, and today had been nothing short of a disaster. Cragen was angry, and so were half the cops in the precinct. If Toby had gained any respect, it was gone - not that he cared. He didn‛t, damn it. There was nothing he cared about less.

‟Do you drive, Toby?‟

Toby pulled his arm off his eyes and looked over at Munch. ‟No. Why?‟

‟Good. It‛s safer that way, but you still better run home, instead of walk.‟ Munch sat down at the table, facing him. ‟You broke the golden rule.‟

‟You‛d think I pissed on the donuts.‟ Toby sat up and rubbed his face. He dug his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. ‟But tell me the rule.‟

‟You work for us.‟ Munch shook his head in what had to be disgust. ‟Not perps.‟

Toby couldn‛t quite wrap his head around that. ‟Munch, minimum wage does not inspire loyalty. Did you guys forget I was an ex-con?‟

‟We thought you were working for us.‟ Munch got to his feet. ‟Lay low for a few days.‟

‟Got it.‟ Toby went downstairs with him. He cleared his desk and went back to the locker room to piss. Lifting weights wasn‛t possible tonight. He was too damn tired.

‟Proud of yourself, Beecher?‟

Toby didn‛t know any of the three cops in the locker room, but they knew him. ‟Uh, no.‟

They circled him and shoved him against the wall. Toby took his glasses off fast and put them in his pocket. He‛d done this before, and he didn‛t want them broken. ‟It was about the law, guys. You can‛t tromple on it.‟

They didn‛t look happy to hear that. One of them growled, ‟Fine. We‛ll tromple you.‟

********

Elliot heard all about it, but he wasn‛t pissed off like the homicide guys were, and they were a tough bunch. Toby needed to dig a hole and get in it.

‟You headed home?‟ Cragen asked.

‟Yeah. I‛ll be in early tomorrow.‟ Elliot lowered his voice. ‟Did anyone tell Toby to watch his back?‟

Cragen looked at him for a long moment. ‟Munch did.‟

Elliot was glad to hear it. ‟Bad situation.‟

Cragen nodded, but left without another word. He was probably angry too. Elliot hoped this didn‛t end up with Toby in orange. The homicide guys could get it done if they wanted. Toby had been stupid to honor that debt. He should‛ve told O‛Reily to go to hell.

Elliot went out into the drizzle. He hurried to his car and wondered if Toby had walked. Hopefully, Toby had gone to a meeting. If he could keep his head down for a few days, this would blow over.

********

Toby opened a lower locker door and used it to pull himself to his feet. He tried to breathe deep, but his ribs protested, so he panted. Spitting a glob of blood out on the floor helped. The good news was that they hadn‛t killed him. That was also the bad news. He used his shirt to wipe the blood from his face. All in all, they‛d been careful. They‛d busted his mouth and blackened his eye, but that had been minor compared to what they‛d done to his ribs, back, and even his legs. Hurting him had been the idea, but the dumb fuckers were amateurs compared to Vern and Chris.

‟Shit,‟ Toby breathed. He rested for several long minutes. It wasn‛t getting any better though, so he decided to head home. He‛d catch a cab. The squadroom was deserted, and he was glad for that small mercy. Grabbing his coat, he got out of the building fast. It was raining, and he lifted his face to it. Some more blood dripped down onto his shirt, and he shoved his hair off his face. Part of him wanted to scream his defiance, but mostly he wanted to whimper and go home to an ice pack. AA was tonight, and he wasn‛t going to make the meeting.

The street was empty. No cabs. He started walking, shoving the pain aside. Halfway there, he stumbled to his knees and rested - the rain dripping off him. Insults swirled through him. Prag. Pussy. Cunt. Bitch. Slut. Get to your damn feet! He got moving again. The vision in his right eye faded away, but his lip stopped bleeding, and his teeth didn‛t seem to be loose. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other. When he saw his building, he sobbed from relief. He found his key, made it in the door, and leaned against the wall. The rain was off him, and that seemed to matter more than anything.

‟Hey, buddy, you okay?‟

Toby blearily focused on what had to be the pizza guy. ‟Fuck off.‟

The pizza guy frowned, but went away. Toby slid down the wall. He‛d climb the stairs later. After he breathed for a minute. He was out of the rain, if not home, and that was all that mattered.

********

Elliot held out the twenty and took the pizza. ‟Thanks. Keep the change.‟

‟Thanks.‟ The pizza guy put the money away. ‟Hey, ain‛t you a cop?‟

Elliot nodded. ‟Yeah, why?‟

‟Some guy in the hallway - looks like someone mugged him.‟

Elliot took the pizza to the coffee table before going out to the main door. He saw the crumpled, soaked man, but it took several seconds before he realized who it was. ‟Shit, Toby.‟

Toby laughed. It was a broken sound. ‟Yeah. I‛m shit all right.‟

Elliot squatted and took a good look at the blood and bruises. ‟I‛m calling a bus.‟

Toby slapped his hand down on Elliot‛s forearm. ‟Just. Leave me alone.‟

Elliot hesitated. He knew who‛d done this, and he wasn‛t exactly proud of his fellow policemen. It was probably a good time to walk away. Pretend that he didn‛t know, and let it play out. He looked down at the hand on him. ‟You should‛ve blown off O‛Reily.‟

Toby opened the eye that wasn‛t swollen shut. ‟I owed him for flipping McFadden.‟ He gripped Elliot tightly and tried to get up. ‟Damn,‟ he muttered. Elliot still hesitated, not helping. He bit his lower lip and made his decision. Toby had taken this beating for doing SVU‛s business. Elliot picked him up.

*********

Toby wanted to curse him and hold tight, never letting go. Elliot put him in the tub. ‟Strip. You need a shower.‟

The last thing Toby wanted to do was get naked, but he was starting to shiver spasmodically. His teeth chattered, and his hands felt thick. He tried, but Elliot sighed and helped him. Elliot clearly didn‛t want to touch him. It almost hurt as badly as that fist to his face had. Toby pushed at him.

‟Go the fuck away.‟

‟Keep saying that and sooner or later, I‛m going to think you mean it.‟ Elliot turned on the shower. Toby gasped as the quick burst of cold hit him, but it quickly turned hot. He put his head down and let the warm water stream down him. It felt good. Elliot gently touched a spot on Toby‛s back. ‟Is that a boot mark?‟

Toby groaned from the ache and pushed the hand away. He managed to close the shower curtain with Elliot on the other side of it. That was better. He could shiver in private now. His legs ached, but he stayed on his feet. Nothing was broken. He‛d heal fast. He put his head down again and sighed. Working at SVU was like a prison job. Well, he was square with O‛Reily now, and after a month or so, someone else would piss them off, and he‛d be safe. He had to believe that.

‟Here‛s a towel. Want me to go upstairs and get you some dry clothes?‟

Toby heard the jingle of his keys. ‟Please.‟ He did not want to be naked in Elliot‛s apartment. Well, that was a lie, but he‛d repeat it until it was true. He groaned, soaped his hair, and shut off the water. The towel was close, and he wasn‛t going to rub himself. He patted, cursed, and shivered some more in the cool air.

Elliot opened the door, and Toby covered himself with the towel. He took the clothes. ‟Leave.‟

‟I‛ll make some coffee.‟ Elliot shut the door.

Toby found the strength to dress. His wet clothes were hanging up here and there, and he rescued his wallet, cell phone, and glasses. ‟Shit.‟ He stared at his broken face in the mirror. ‟Dumbass,‟ he whispered. He sat on the toilet and tried to give himself a pep talk. He was okay. He was fine. He didn‛t have to go back to the halfway house. He would not drink. He would not drink. It didn‛t solve anything.

‟Are you going to stay in here?‟

‟I might.‟ Toby didn‛t look at him. ‟I should go home.‟

‟Drink some coffee first, and here.‟

Toby saw the ice pack. He took it and put it on his face. ‟Fuck!‟

‟Come on.‟ Elliot tugged him to the couch. ‟I bet you hurt like hell.‟

Toby didn‛t answer. He didn‛t want to start crying. His face pulsed and he gritted his teeth. That made it all hurt worse. His lip was as swollen as his eye, and he alternated between them with the ice pack. He‛d live. He was a survivor. Stupid cops could kiss his ass.

‟Who did it?‟

Toby almost didn‛t hear the soft, low question. He let it hang in the air between them. Elliot sat down across from him, took a piece of pizza, and started to eat it. Toby saw the cup of coffee, and he sipped it, wincing when it hit his lip. He needed it though, so he drank it.

‟Toby, answer the question.‟

‟The first rule in Oz is that you don‛t rat each other out, unless you want a shank in your back.‟ Toby put the empty cup down. He eyed the pizza. It was thin crust - his favorite. He picked up a piece and took a careful bite. It wasn‛t too hot, and it was good. Chewing hurt. He swallowed. ‟Of course, we all broke it a thousand times, but we were careful when we did it.‟

‟You saying that you‛ll get your own revenge?‟ Elliot‛s brow was furrowed.

‟No.‟ Toby didn‛t meant that at all. ‟I just mean that a man has to pick his battles carefully. This.‟ He pointed at his face. ‟Is nothing. They were having some fun.‟

Elliot snorted. ‟That was assault with intent.‟

Toby managed to eat an entire piece. ‟Thanks for your help. Again. I guess I do need my ass wiped.‟

‟Take tomorrow off.‟ Elliot rolled his eyes. ‟I‛ll back you up with Cragen.‟

‟Forget it. I‛ll walk to work, and you‛re going to leave me alone, and as soon as I have the strength to lift the couch, I‛m moving out of this cop hellhole.‟ Toby got to his feet with only a small groan.

Elliot got up fast and steadied him. ‟You‛re an asswipe.‟

‟No. You are.‟ Toby tried to push him away. ‟You don‛t like me! Why the fuck are you in my face all the damn time? Don‛t you realize it hurts? It hurts!‟

Elliot didn‛t turn him loose. ‟Why?‟

Toby let the truth roar out of him. ‟I love him! And I love you! And it‛s damn wrong!‟ He tore away from him and let his anger propel him out the door and up the stairs. Slamming the door felt good, and he went straight to bed. He crawled under the covers and trembled, telling himself that it was nothing but the cold. He set his alarm and hid from the world.

*********

Elliot couldn‛t have been more stunned if he‛d been hit with a skillet. Kathy had done that once - she‛d said it was an accident - so he knew what it felt like, and this was similiar. Toby stomped out the door, and Elliot heard him slam his door upstairs.

Toby‛s keys glinted on the coffee table. Elliot stared at them. He didn‛t give a shit for Toby. Toby was right. Elliot had to leave him alone. Let him work out his parole and go home to Connecticut.

‟Shit,‟ Elliot said softly. He wished desperately that was true. Lowering his face into his hands, he prayed for an answer. No one answered. He wondered what Chris would say.

‟Cuz, you know you like it. Just relax.‟

Elliot quivered. That wasn‛t the memory that he wanted to pop up. He‛d spent years denying that he liked it. It worked for him. The keys laughed. He went to the bathroom, got all of Toby‛s things, and took them up to Toby‛s apartment. No lights were on, but he went inside. He hung up the clothes in the bathroom and put the keys on the hook where he‛d seen Toby hang them. Toby was right. He was right. Elliot locked the door and left.

********  
Chapter Five - The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man hath no where to lay his head. John 7:24

Toby nearly didn‛t make it out of bed. Every muscle in his body hurt and a few bones ached too. The shower helped, and he saw his clothes. Elliot had been here. All that seemed to matter was that he hadn‛t stayed. Toby dressed in casual clothes, just in case another cop wanted to take a shot at him today. He didn‛t mess with making coffee. He‛d get some at work.

The morning was crisp, clear, and he shivered once in his lighter coat. His leather coat had been ruined by the rain, but he didn‛t give a shit. The walk got his muscles moving and warmed him up. He was two blocks away when he saw Elliot drive by. Was it possible that Elliot was going to leave him alone? Toby hoped so. He couldn‛t handle it, and he was smart enough to know it.

‟Chris, you asshole. You never said that he was a good man.‟ Toby walked a little faster. His left leg ached, but he refused to limp. He‛d be damned if he‛d stay at home and cry. He was going to do his job, and they could laugh at their handiwork.

********

Elliot drove past him. Stupid asswipe was practically limping. He had way too much pride. Elliot recognized when he saw it. He sped up, strode in the squadroom, and went straight towards Cragen‛s office.

‟Where‛s Beecher? You usually bring him.‟ Cragen met him halfway. ‟Did he quit?‟

Elliot made sure to project his voice, but not yell. ‟He got his ass kicked by the guys in homicide!‟

‟So he quit?‟ Cragen frowned.

‟He owed O‛Reily because of McFadden. My case! And you and I both know that homicide screwed that collar up!‟ Elliot felt like throwing something. He hadn‛t realized how angry he was until this moment. ‟That was my beating!‟

Cragen rubbed his forehead. ‟Beecher made his own choices, but I see your point.‟

Elliot had to be satisfied with that and the belief that he saw on the faces of his co-workers. He didn‛t want to start a department war, but he also didn‛t want SVU guys making it worse on Toby. Elliot tossed his coat in his chair, rolled up his sleeves, and went to get some coffee. He didn‛t want to be in the room when Toby limped in the door.

********

Toby hung up his coat and went to his desk. He didn‛t really bring his eyes up off the floor, but he heard a couple of curse words. That wasn‛t sympathy though, more like gloating.

‟My office, Beecher.‟

Toby fully expected to be fired. Some part of him hoped for it. The judge might be placated with a couple of months. He sighed. Not likely. Instead of talking, he stood in front of the desk. Sitting down was taking too big a risk that he wouldn‛t get moving again.

‟Would you care to explain what happened?‟

‟No, sir.‟ Toby shook his head and hoped his face stayed on.

‟File a report?‟

‟No, sir.‟ Toby shifted on his sore leg. ‟You want me gone?‟

Cragen sighed. He hesitated, picked up a thick file, and handed it over. ‟I need twenty of these.‟

Toby took it and walked out. He wasn‛t quitting. Did they think they were meaner than anything Oz had thrown at him? Not damn likely.

‟Beech, I told you to run home.‟

Toby grinned at Munch, even though it hurt. ‟But you forgot to mention that they were waiting in the locker room.‟

Munch‛s eyes widened and his voice turned hard. ‟Those shitheads were in our squad?‟

‟Oops.‟ Toby hadn‛t known that cops marked their territory. Made sense though - each squad had its own turf. ‟No. I was on my way home. My mistake.‟

‟Those rat bastards!‟ Munch glared.

Toby waved his file in the air. ‟I have to work.‟

‟Lunch at the hot dog stand.‟

‟I‛m not buying.‟ Toby felt no charity towards cops today. He went to the copy machine and made copies and stapled until his one eye wanted to cross. Finally, he finished the last one and put them on Cragen‛s desk. Now it was time to file. The pile wasn‛t too high, and he was finished by lunch. All in all, it wasn‛t a bad morning. No one had shoved him down, Elliot had ignored him, and he hadn‛t collapsed in a heap.

Toby stuffed four Tylenol in his pocket. It was lunch, and he needed a break. He grabbed his coat and went outside. It was cold now. Munch, Fin, and Elliot were at the hot dog stand. Toby couldn‛t understand why they all weren‛t fat. He bought a hot dog, a soda, and went over to stand by Munch.

‟Shit, Toby. You look like you were hit by a damn bus!‟ Fin shook his head.

‟Feels that way too.‟ Toby popped the Tylenol in his mouth and took a drink. It‛d help. What he really needed was some Demerol, but he wasn‛t going to the doctor. Elliot was finding other things to look at and other cops to talk to, and that was fine. It was. He‛d finally seen reason.

‟How many guys were there?‟ Munch asked, and he didn‛t look happy.

Toby took a bite of his dog, chewed, and swallowed. ‟Ten. Took ‛em all to hold me down.‟

Munch and Fin laughed. Elliot grinned. ‟Probably they sent over two lady detectives. They used their high heels on him.‟

Everyone laughed some more. Toby grinned back at him. ‟Hell, I‛d have liked that!‟

Even the hot dog guy was laughing now. Toby finished his lunch, such as it was. He gingerly felt his mouth. It wasn‛t bleeding - hurt like hell, but not any worse than his eye. Cragen wandered up, and Toby took the opportunity to go back inside. His coat was too thin, and he wanted to sit for a few minutes. He kept his coat on and rubbed his leg, sitting at his desk. It was stupid to feel good, but some small part of him did. He told himself again that they weren‛t friends or anything to him, but it rang hollow.

********

Elliot wanted to curse the fact that he noticed Toby shivering in his summer coat. They weren‛t friends. They weren‛t anything. He was going to ignore the skel and do his job.

‟I love him! I love you!‟

Toby yelled again in Elliot‛s mind. Elliot rubbed his face. He had to pretend that never happened, and he didn‛t give a damn. Shit. He needed a transfer.

********

‟Go home, Beecher.‟

Toby didn‛t need to look at the clock to know that it was early in the afternoon. ‟Huh?‟

‟Go home.‟ Cragen raised his voice. ‟Munch! Take Beecher home!‟

‟Will do, Cap.‟ Munch got to his feet, making a show of looking for his keys.

Toby frowned. ‟I have things to do,‟ he said lamely.

‟Do it tomorrow.‟ Cragen walked away. Toby shut down his computer and trailed after Munch to the parking lot.

‟You need a better coat.‟

‟No kidding.‟ Toby controlled a shiver. ‟Oz wasn‛t quite this cold.‟

‟They heat prisons? I‛m going to have to complain to the governor about that.‟ Munch was a wise ass, and he did it well. Toby laughed and was glad to get a ride home from someone that wasn‛t tall, dark, and sexy as hell. He went up to his apartment and crashed on the couch. He‛d take a nap and then go to the meeting at St. Mark‛s.

*********

Elliot agreed with Munch. ‟I know, but I ain‛t getting a rip over this.‟

Munch looked at Fin. ‟What do you think, Fin?‟

‟I don‛t like to let it slide, but we don‛t even know who did it.‟

Elliot pursed his lips. ‟You could check the security cameras.‟

‟Good idea.‟ Fin took off.

Munch smiled. ‟And then?‟

‟And then we have a little talk with them,‟ Elliot said firmly. ‟They screwed up the bust. Any half-decent lawyer could have gotten him off. It just happened to be Toby.‟

‟Exactly.‟ Munch nodded with satisfaction, and Elliot went back to work.

Benson tapped her pencil on the desk. ‟You‛re being stupid.‟

‟Yeah. Maybe so.‟ Elliot had never won that argument with a woman.

‟You wanted to beat the crap out of him not that long ago.‟ Benson rolled her eyes. ‟He‛s probably out getting drunk right now.‟

‟I doubt it. He ain‛t walking so good.‟ Elliot tilted his head. ‟You don‛t like him.‟

‟Not at all. He‛s smug, a smartass, rich, a drunk, and a cry baby.‟ Benson must have run out of adjectives because she stopped.

Elliot laughed softly. ‟You like rich guys!‟

She glared. ‟It‛s the whole package. Judge Allen should have gotten him a job at Burger King.‟

‟Home of the Whopper.‟ Elliot went ahead and grinned. ‟I think I‛ll get a burger after work.‟

‟Some days, you drive me crazy.‟

Elliot grabbed a toothpick out of his drawer to chew. ‟Say it, sistah.‟ Even with all the chat, they managed to clear the case without going into overtime. That would make Cragen happy. Elliot ended up at Manny‛s, having a burger and a cold one. He went home after one of each, stopped to get his mail, and didn‛t talk to the rich cry baby that passed him in the lobby. Toby wanted it that way. He‛d said it more than once. Elliot was glad when he heard the honk of the cab. It was too cold for Toby to be walking anywhere, and a rip wasn‛t any big deal.

********

‟Tobias!‟ Father Michael covered his mouth with his hand.

‟Yeah. Sorry. I‛m not exactly a work of art tonight.‟ Toby rubbed his cold hands together. ‟Father, I was going to go buy a coat, but I was thinking that maybe you‛d prefer the money for the building fund.‟

Father Michael looked surprised. ‟We do keep coats for the homeless, but we give them away.‟

‟I‛m not homeless.‟ Toby didn‛t try to smile. His mouth hurt. ‟If I don‛t find anything I like, I‛ll go to a store.‟

‟That sounds fair.‟ Father Michael nodded. ‟Come this way. We have about fifteen minutes before group.‟

Toby followed him into the depths of the big church. When Father Michael pulled open a big door, it was almost a shock. Toby went inside and whispered, ‟Wow.‟

‟We get donations every year. This Sunday, I‛m going to make sure everyone has a coat at dinner.‟

‟I‛ll help.‟ Toby went through the racks. He found two that he liked - a leather one and blue one like a ski jacket. ‟Is two okay?‟

‟Of course.‟ Father Michael wasn‛t lying. ‟Tobias, your face wasn‛t the result of your past associations, was it?‟

‟Yes. It was.‟ Toby made his way back through the rack. He pulled out his wallet. ‟Three hundred?‟

‟No. That‛s far too much,‟ Father Michael protested, but it was weak.

Toby handed him the money, which he took, and they went out. ‟Thanks. I was very cold today.‟

‟In that coat? You certainly were.‟ Father Michael shook his head. ‟I‛m glad that you weren‛t injured severely.‟

‟Me too.‟ Toby took off his light coat and put on the leather one. That was better. It was chilly inside the old church. ‟They weren‛t really trying or I‛d be dead.‟

‟That‛s not reassuring. I hope you‛ll be avoiding the men who did that in the future.‟

Toby walked with him. ‟Kinda hard to avoid cops where I work.‟ He left the priest at the door to the room where he had group. Father Michael had looked stunned. Well, he had led a sheltered life. Toby settled into his usual chair. He was not going to drink - not today - and today was all that mattered.

********

Elliot drove past him again, but this time he had a proper coat on. Well, that was an improvement. Stubborn idiot should just ride in the car. Fin and Munch met Elliot at the coat rack.

‟I got them.‟ Fin held up a tape. Without a word, they filed into a room to watch it. Fin pointed out the guys, coming and going. Elliot had him pause it and took a good, long look at their faces.

‟Toby didn‛t fight back,‟ Elliot muttered.

Munch nodded. ‟Not a mark on them - the assholes.‟

Elliot raised his eyebrows. He‛d seen enough. ‟Well, let‛s go talk with them.‟ He drove. ‟Munch, you seem kinda bloodthirsty about this.‟

‟Toby‛s a good guy. He didn‛t deserve that.‟

Elliot agreed - mostly. They went in the homicide squadroom, and Elliot spotted them immediately. They were pretty good-sized. Elliot began to wish that he‛d brought a bit more muscle. Their captain came out of his office.

‟What‛s this about, boys?‟

‟It‛s about your guys coming to SVU and beating up one of ours.‟ Elliot watched the three of them swagger over. Toby hadn‛t had a chance. Elliot made a rude noise. ‟Three of you? For one guy? Homicide is getting weak!‟

One of them cocked his head to the side. ‟We were making sure the job got done right.‟

‟One geeky lawyer?‟ Munch shook his head. ‟Do you also kick puppies?‟

The captain frowned. ‟You guys did what?‟

‟We took care of business.‟

Elliot smiled. He was angry now and he wasn‛t backing away. ‟Try me next time.‟

They moved closer. ‟We were defending one of our guys! O‛Reily assaulted a cop!‟

‟The perp would be behind bars if you‛d bothered to Mirandize him - when he was conscious!‟ Elliot glared at the asswipes. ‟That ain‛t on Beecher.‟

‟Beecher‛s a skel. He‛ll think twice next time.‟ The asshole banged his chest into Elliot‛s, but Elliot didn‛t budge.

The captain pushed in between them. ‟Back off! You SVU guys go home. I‛ll deal with this!‟

Fin handed the captain the tape. ‟Kicking a man when he‛s down ain‛t right.‟

A small scuffle broke out, but Elliot got Munch and Fin out of there without black eyes. Munch seemed satisfied. ‟Captain Cragen is going to hear about this before we get back.‟

‟Yep,‟ Elliot said. He wasn‛t worried. It wasn‛t as if they‛d thrown the first punch or something. Getting out of the car, he straightened his shirt. Munch and Fin did the same, and they all went inside to face the captain.

********

Toby went up to clean the lounge before going to see if Cragen needed anything. It was a wreck, as usual, and he cursed cops under his breath while he threw out cups, wiped up spills, and cleaned the table. When he was finished, he got a cup of coffee in a mug that said, ‛NYPD‛ and leaned against the railing that looked down on the squadroom. He saw Munch, Fin, and Elliot come in the door. They looked pleased with themselves.

Cragen stormed out of his office. ‟You three! Right now!‟

Toby didn‛t think they looked scared. He rubbed his sore leg and went down to his desk. Maybe he could hide until Cragen was through yelling. His customary pile of files wasn‛t too deep, and he took care of them quickly. When he got back to his desk, he was surprised to see a young Asian man underneath it.

‟Hi, I‛m from TARU.‟

‟Hi, I work for minimum wage,‟ Toby said. He had no idea who this guy was. ‟What are you doing?‟

The guy laughed and fiddled with a cable. ‟Internet connection. You did ask, right?‟

‟Uh, no, but I‛ll take it. I‛m not sure that tower has a modem.‟ Toby moved the chair further out of the way.

The guy didn‛t answer. He kept on working. After three or four minutes, he poked his head out. ‟Try it.‟

Toby double-clicked. ‟Wow. That‛s fast.‟

‟You bet.‟ The guy took over the keyboard and mouse, going through menus with lightning speed. He made change after change. ‟Okay. I think that‛s good.‟

‟You‛re amazing.‟ Toby was impressed.

‟I‛m not half-bad.‟ He flashed a handsome smile. ‟Are you new here?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby clicked and smiled with pleasure. This would make working here much easier. ‟This is really great. Thanks.‟

‟Not a problem. Here‛s my card. Call me if there‛s a problem or if you just want to talk computers.‟

Toby took it. Before he could say anything else the TARU guy was gone. He put the card in his wallet. Maybe they could -.

Cragen slammed his office door, and Toby thought he wasn‛t the only one to cringe. Elliot, Fin, and Munch went to their desks. They didn‛t seem chastised in the least. Munch actually seemed to be strutting.

Benson looked disgusted from her position at her desk. ‟So, was it worth getting a rip for a skel?‟

Elliot grinned and raised his eyebrows. ‟Sure as hell was.‟

Toby was the only skel in the office. ‟Shit,‟ he whispered. He hadn‛t told them anything.

‟Beecher! My office!‟

Toby swallowed hard and went. He took the glare and asked, ‟What do you need?‟

‟I need you to tell me why you opened your big mouth and told three of my detectives who was responsible for beating you up!‟ Cragen had his hands on his hips. ‟I thought we were going to drop it!‟

‟I . . . well, didn‛t tell them anything.‟ Toby frowned. He hadn‛t said a word. Well, he hadn‛t said much. ‟They are detectives. Maybe, they figured it out?‟

‟Very damn funny. As if I didn‛t have enough shit to deal with.‟ Cragen went to sit at his desk. ‟Novak wants you for the rest of this week. Go!‟

‟Yes, sir.‟ Toby felt as if he should apologize, but he hadn‛t done anything wrong. He went out quickly and retrieved his coat. It was a damn shame. He hadn‛t even had a chance to surf the internet. Did people still surf? He wasn‛t sure. Turning off his computer, he wanted to groan that Novak had asked for him. That probably meant he‛d be going to Oz. He hoped he was wrong.

‟Toby, where you going?‟ Munch asked.

‟Novak.‟ Toby grabbed his coffee. ‟Cragen‛s pissed.‟

Munch just grinned. Toby went.

*********

Elliot worked instead of chatting. Toby‛s empty desk worried him, but he refused to go ask. It wasn‛t until lunch that he found out that Cragen had sent Toby to Novak. No one knew if Toby was ever coming back, but bets were that he wasn‛t.

‟Munch and Fin, get on that canvass.‟ Cragen still looked angry. ‟Benson and Stabler, here‛s a new one.‟

Benson took it from him. ‟I‛m glad you got rid of Beecher. He caused enough trouble.‟

‟Novak wanted him for a few days.‟ Cragen frowned. ‟He‛ll be back. You have a beef against him, Olivia?‟

Benson played it cool this time. ‟He‛s just not my kind of guy.‟

‟He should‛ve kept his mouth shut, and then you three wouldn‛t have been so stupid as to go over to homicide and start a brawl!‟

Elliot looked at Munch, who looked at Fin. Fin said, ‟He didn‛t tell us squat. We figured it out.‟

‟We‛re de-tec-tives,‟ Munch drawled.

Cragen narrowed his eyes. ‟Then go arrest some people!‟

Elliot got his coat. He was tempted to laugh. Cragen would calm down eventually, and Toby was better off with Novak until it happened. With any luck, they‛d stay out of Oz. The image of Toby‛s branded ass slammed into Elliot‛s brain. Elliot tried to rub it away. He shouldn‛t have looked when Toby was in the shower.

‟You okay?‟ Benson asked.

‟Yeah. I was just wondering if brands hurt as much as tattoos.‟ Elliot started the car and the heater.

Benson gave him a strange look. ‟I heard they hurt like hell. Are you getting one?‟

‟Me? No way.‟ Elliot put the car in gear. He really hoped they stayed out of Oz.

*********

Toby was glad to spend the day doing research on a case. It was quiet. He could sit, and no one even talked to him, much less beat him up.

‟You leave at five?‟ Novak came striding up to the desk that Toby had been given.

‟Usually, but I can stay longer.‟ Toby wouldn‛t mind.

‟No. Keep your usual hours.‟ Novak smiled. ‟You‛re here until Monday. Did they catch the guys that did that to your face?‟

Toby started clearing his desk. That smile made him nervous. ‟I really don‛t want to discuss it.‟

Novak tilted her head to the side. ‟Anyone could have gotten him off. They screwed up.‟

‟I know.‟ Toby turned off his computer. He was going. ‟I‛ll be in at nine.‟

‟That‛s fine. Bring it to me when you‛re done.‟ Novak waved and went out the door. Toby stretched, winced slightly, and put on his coat. He was going home tonight. No group. No parole officer. Nothing but television. It‛d be nice. He walked. It was cold, but he didn‛t care now that he had a coat. His eye had unexpectedly opened after lunch, and it was nice to see the world again. Tomorrow, he‛d wear his glasses.

His apartment seemed cozy against the cold, and he was forced to admit that he wasn‛t moving. He liked it here. As long as Elliot stayed away, it was a good place to live. Toby hung up his coat, turned on the TV, and went to find some dinner. He wouldn‛t think about him tonight. Wouldn‛t dream about him or Chris.

It had been a quiet day. All he wanted was a quiet evening.

********

Elliot considered going up to the crib. He was about half-asleep as it was. Dimly, he could hear Novak and Cragen talking about the latest cases. He didn‛t really listen until he heard his name.

‟I think Elliot got them all moving in that direction.‟ Cragen sighed. ‟He took it personally.‟

‟Well, he was right. They had no business coming over here. I should charge them with assault.‟

‟No evidence. Fin made sure of that.‟

Elliot smiled. That had worked out well.

‟Hey, if you don‛t want Beecher, I‛ll happily keep him. I‛d get a good lawyer for minimum.‟ Novak sounded almost as if she were gloating over the prospect.

Cragen hesitated and mumbled something that Elliot didn‛t catch. Elliot didn‛t want to hear any more. Two bosses smug about working a man for minimum stuck in his throat. They were bending Toby over, and they were pleased about it. That made up Elliot‛s mind, and he got his coat and left. It was late and cold, and he was glad he didn‛t have to walk. He trotted inside the building, got his mail, and looked up the stairs.

Toby loved him. Elliot believed that, but he also knew that Toby wanted to be left alone, and that was more important.

********

‟Good job this week, Toby,‟ Novak said, looking up as he put the file on her desk.

‟Thanks.‟ Toby was glad he‛d finished it. ‟It was an interesting case. I‛m sure you‛ll win.‟

‟Let‛s hope.‟ Novak smiled. ‟Cragen and I have been discussing you, and he doesn‛t have a problem with me giving you cases to research occasionally.‟

Toby processed that. ‟That‛ll be fine.‟ He didn‛t have a choice. ‟Do you want me to do the work here or there?‟

‟There.‟ Novak opened the file. ‟Enjoy the weekend.‟

Toby nodded and left the office. He got his coat, made sure he had his cell phone, and went towards the squadroom. For the better part of three days, he hadn‛t seen Elliot. It had been restful. He had liked it. Fuck. He was such a liar.

The squad was busy, and he slid over to his desk. ‟Shit.‟ Files were jumbled everywhere. He dropped his coat on his chair and started to put them in an orderly stack. Since no one had filed, they‛d known he was coming back.

‟How‛s the eye, Toby?‟ Munch asked.

‟Open.‟ Toby smiled. ‟What‛s a rip?‟

Munch raised his eyebrows. ‟That‛s when we work, but we don‛t get paid for it.‟

‟So, I guess I owe you a favor.‟

Munch laughed. ‟That‛s what got you into this trouble. It wasn‛t about you.‟

Toby shrugged. He wasn‛t sure he believed that. ‟I could bring donuts on Monday.‟

Munch grinned and went to his desk. That meant yes. Toby put the files down. He‛d put them away later. He picked up a few to-do notes that Cragen had left. There was nothing life threatening. With a certain amount of dread, he went up to the lounge. Damn, cops were pigs. He slumped down on the sofa and giggled softly.

Toby‛s cell phone rang, and he snapped it open, ‟Angus?‟

‟Hi, Toby. How was your week?‟ Angus sounded tired.

Toby took off his glasses and put the phone in his other ear. ‟Painful. Yours?‟

‟Long.‟ Angus seemed to take a deep breath.

‟Don‛t bring the kids this weekend,‟ Toby said before Angus could give him the bad news. ‟I have a black eye, and I don‛t want them to see it.‟

‟What?‟

Toby laughed softly. ‟I fell. Hit my face. I look awful. I don‛t want them seeing me this way, and the weather is terrible. My parole officer says that if I stay sober another couple of months, he‛ll consider letting me come to Connecticut on Saturdays.‟

‟Stabler beat you up,‟ Angus snapped. ‟That fucking prick!‟

‟Angus! He did not.‟ Toby had to tell some of the truth. ‟I got sideways because of O‛Reily. A cop over in homicide took it very personally. Stabler didn‛t do anything but hand me an ice pack.‟

‟Toby, if that job isn‛t safe, I‛ll speak to Judge Allen myself. He can‛t insist you work there if it‛s dangerous.‟ Angus was in lawyer mode now.

‟Don‛t. I‛m fine. I worked for Casey Novak this week. It went well.‟ Toby leaned back on the old sofa. ‟Have them call me, okay? And send emails.‟

‟Of course. Are you okay?‟

‟Not too bad. It only hurts when I breathe.‟ Toby laughed to make him feel better. ‟Thanks for calling.‟

‟Stay safe.‟ Angus clicked off, and Toby shut his phone. Toby looked around at the wreckage and sighed. First, he have a cup of coffee, and then he‛d clean up. No rush after all. It wasn‛t as if he had somewhere to be on a Friday night. He usually went to AA, but he was skipping tonight. After one sip, he poured it out. That was not coffee. That was black sludge. He might as well clean.

‟Is Beecher around?‟

Toby looked over the rail. Shit.

Munch pointed. Toby stayed where he was. He even sat on the old sofa to wait.

Lennon didn‛t look happy. He didn‛t sit down. No, he stood over Toby and snapped, ‟An old pal of mine in homicide gave me a call. I can see by your face that he wasn‛t lying.‟

Toby brushed his hair back. He wasn‛t sure how to play this. ‟I guess you‛ve made up your mind.‟

‟Owing favors to buddies in Oz ain‛t smart. Taking care of your buddies in Oz is damn dumb.‟ Lennon put his hands on his hips. ‟But Cragen thinks you‛re doing a good job, and that‛s a point in your favor.‟

‟So, what‛s the score?‟ Toby knew he should be begging and pleading, promising all kinds of things. The fact that he wasn‛t worried him.

‟You fucked up my Saturday. I‛m fucking up yours.‟ Lennon looked around the lounge. ‟This one of your jobs?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby had a feeling that he was screwed.

‟Finish, and then go see Stabler.‟ Lennon turned to go. ‟You‛re on the edge, Beecher.‟

‟I usually am.‟ Toby took his time, but did a thorough job. When he couldn‛t stall any longer, and the suspense was getting to him, he went to find Elliot. It wasn‛t hard. Elliot was at his desk, chewing on something. The man was like a goat.

‟Okay, I‛m done.‟

Elliot nodded and got to his feet. ‟For the record, this wasn‛t my idea.‟

‟Let‛s get it over with.‟ Toby felt his mouth go dry.

Elliot didn‛t smile. ‟Hands on your head.‟

Toby nearly ran. And it must have been all over his face because Elliot moved behind him. He slowly put his hands up. Elliot searched him quickly and competently. Toby‛s cell phone, glasses, wallet, and keys went on Elliot‛s desk. Toby felt his knees shake and a growl start in his throat. Elliot cuffed him, but not tightly.

‟We‛re not going to fight this time.‟

Toby saw Cragen staring at him. The need for violence ebbed. Elliot tugged Toby‛s arm and they were walking. Toby didn‛t struggle. He‛d lose, and he‛d look like a real skel. ‟Fuck,‟ he said softly.

Elliot opened a cage and pushed him inside. ‟Your parole officer used to work that unit.‟

‟How nice for him.‟ Toby wanted to lash out - hurt someone. ‟Shut that door damn fast.‟

Elliot nodded and did just that. ‟Keep it under control. Lennon is testing you.‟

‟Fucker should have the balls to send me back. Not this bullshit.‟ Toby tried to swallow his anger, but it wasn‛t going down.

Elliot took two steps away. ‟I‛ll make sure they don‛t put anyone with you.‟

Toby couldn‛t look at him one more minute. He went to the back of the cage and kicked it. The cuffs dug into his wrists and Toby knew that Lennon was making a point with them. ‟Don‛t do me any fucking favors!‟

Elliot didn‛t answer, and Toby didn‛t look to see if the cop had left. Fuckers. Toby wanted to scream, but when he whipped around, Lennon was watching.

‟You need to make up your mind. You want to stay out or go back?‟ Lennon asked.

Toby clenched his jaw. ‟I don‛t welch on debts, even to convicts like O‛Reily.‟

‟Then pay for it.‟ Lennon shrugged. ‟You‛re on parole, asswipe. That means I own you. Get used to the idea!‟

‟Fine! Get over here and I‛ll suck your dick!‟ Toby knew the score now. He was Lennon‛s bitch.

Lennon smiled. ‟Now you understand. Took you awhile. Have a nice weekend, Beecher.‟

Toby didn‛t answer. Cursing would do no good. This was his life until he was off parole or sent back. He had to come to grips with it. He couldn‛t make his parole officer angry. Sure, he was free. He sank down to the floor and put his head back against the wire. He‛d been very stupid, but he understood now. He certainly did.

********

Elliot wasn‛t exactly proud that he watched from the shadow made by a soda machine. Lennon broke Toby‛s balls but good. Toby‛s mistake had been thinking that his parole officer didn‛t care.

‟Since you‛re here, buy me a soda,‟ Lennon said.

Elliot dug out some money and fed the machine. ‟He ain‛t like the rest of your ex-cons.‟

‟No. I expect him to stay out. Dumbest thing I‛ve ever heard.‟ Lennon pushed his selection. ‟O‛Reily thinks he owns Beecher now.‟

‟Well, I think Beecher knows the truth now.‟ Elliot handed him the soda. ‟All weekend?‟

‟Let him out Monday morning right before work.‟ Lennon popped the can. ‟I thought he might try to hurt you.‟

‟And if he had?‟ Elliot chewed the inside of his lip. He‛d thought the same.

‟He‛d have woken up in Oz.‟ Lennon looked back down the hallway. ‟You‛re gonna help me out here, right?‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟I‛ll keep an eye on him. I wasn‛t doing anything else this weekend.‟

‟Move him to a holding cell in about an hour - cot and a toilet.‟ Lennon took a long drink. ‟You like him?‟

‟I tried not to, but he ain‛t all that bad.‟ Elliot bought himself a diet soda. ‟He makes good coffee.‟

Lennon laughed and started walking. Elliot went with him. Cragen pulled Lennon aside, and Elliot stopped at his desk. He put Toby‛s things in the top drawer.

‟That vein in Beecher‛s forehead is freaky.‟ Benson got to her feet. ‟I‛m gone. Have a good weekend.‟

Elliot waved. He sat down and sipped his drink. That vein thing was weird, but it always let him know when Toby was pissed. Elliot could wish that Lennon had kept him out of it.

‟Glad it was you and not me.‟ Munch cocked his hip on Benson‛s desk.

‟Lennon knew that Toby could kick your ass.‟ Elliot smiled.

Munch laughed. ‟You getting him dinner?‟

‟Shit. I have to babysit him all weekend, don‛t I?‟ Elliot leaned back in his chair. He didn‛t mind doing it. It was partially his responsiblity after all, which Lennon had known.

‟He likes Italian.‟ Munch strolled off. Elliot wondered how Munch knew that.

*********

Toby didn‛t bother pacing. He still hurt in places, and it would be stupid to waste energy. Men came and went around him, and he sat on the floor, leaning against the cage. He didn‛t think they‛d leave him here long. No toilet. His kids were going to try to call this weekend, and he‛d be rotting in here.  
It would have been easy to blame Elliot, but Toby couldn‛t do that. This was all on him. He‛d known better than to get in debt to O‛Reily.

‟Okay, Lennon wants you in a holding cell.‟

Toby got to his feet. ‟I‛m his bitch. I‛ll be good.‟

Elliot opened the door and took the cuffs off Toby‛s wrists. ‟I‛ll find you one with curtains.‟

‟I don‛t want you to think I‛m enjoying this,‟ Toby growled and rubbed his wrists. He walked with him. Elliot took him through another door. And another.

Elliot stopped. ‟Now this is going to be a pain in my ass. If I could book you, I wouldn‛t have to worry.‟

‟Gee. Sorry to inconvenience you.‟

Elliot turned around. ‟This is what I get for doing a favor.‟

The irony wasn‛t lost on Toby. He sighed and rubbed his face. Elliot started walking again. This time the other way. Toby followed him until they were back near the squadroom.

‟I‛m getting tired of walking.‟ Toby stopped and leaned against the soda machine.

Elliot rolled his eyes and went in Cragen‛s office. Toby figured this was his moment to escape. Yeah. Right. He bought a soda instead. His stomach rumbled, and he hoped they fed him at some point. Elliot came striding out of Cragen‛s office.

‟If it‛s a pain in your ass, I‛m good with that!‟ Cragen said loudly as he followed Elliot out.

Elliot threw up his hands, took Toby by the arm, and they went back down the hallway. Toby laughed. ‟A cell means a cell, fool.‟

‟It‛s not like you‛re going anywhere,‟ Elliot growled.

Toby nearly laughed. This situation wasn‛t funny, but Elliot was being stupid, and that was always funny. ‟I‛m an ex-con. You know - one of the bad guys. Slap me in cuffs, haul me around, give me the nightstick up the ass treatment.‟

‟Ouch.‟ Elliot took him all the way to a holding cell this time. ‟I‛ll get you some dinner.‟

Toby went in without a fuss. He sat on the cot and drank some soda. ‟The nuggets are always good.‟

Elliot shut the door and locked it. ‟I need to put a tag on you that says, ‛Property of SVU.‛‟

‟Now that‛s just cruel.‟ Toby didn‛t watch him leave. The place was noisy. Guys cursing, doors slamming. He tried to relax. He was going to be here until Lennon let him out.

‟Who put you in here?‟ A sergeant was right outside Toby‛s cell, staring at his clipboard.

‟SVU - I belong to them.‟ Toby went with it. He sure as hell didn‛t want to be shipped. ‟Call Detective Stabler if you want to complain.‟

‟Got it.‟ He wrote it down. ‟Is he putting you on the bus to the Tombs?‟

‟God, no. He‛s coming back to kick my ass later.‟ Toby smiled happily.

‟I better call,‟ the guy muttered and walked away. Toby laughed aloud. He had a feeling that he was losing it, but he didn‛t care. When he got out, he‛d be a good dog - Lennon‛s bitch. But for now, he could act tough. A beating and jail time for O‛Reily - they were so damn even.

‟Hey, got a cigarette?‟

‟I wish.‟ Toby didn‛t make eye contact. ‟You did call your lawyer, right?‟

‟Sure did. He blew me off.‟ The guy shrugged. ‟I‛ll be out soon.‟

Toby nodded and finished his soda. Shit.

********

Elliot got him a burger, fries, and a shake. Italian seemed to be asking a bit much. He spotted the sergeant in charge right before he went through the last door.

‟My guy behaving?‟

‟Sure.‟ Sergeant Green nodded. ‟You want him to go to the Tombs?‟

‟He doesn‛t do me any good there!‟ Elliot made sure Green understood. ‟He gets out Monday. So, just leave him. Okay?‟

‟Got it.‟ Green made a note on his clipboard. ‟I‛ll put a tag on his cell door.‟

‟Good idea.‟ Elliot went on through, opened Toby‛s cell door, and said, ‟How can you sleep in all this racket?‟

Toby opened his eyes and sat up. ‟Practice.‟

Elliot handed him the food. ‟I‛ll stop in tomorrow and check on you.‟

‟Coffee would make me hate you less.‟ Toby put the bags aside. ‟Hey, I promised Father Michael I‛d work on Sunday. Can you call him and tell him I can‛t?‟

Elliot pushed away the spurt of guilt. ‟I don‛t have his number.‟

‟Use my phone, moron.‟ Toby grinned. ‟It‛s on your desk.‟

‟You‛re pretty damn mouthy for a guy behind bars.‟ Elliot wasn‛t sure he liked this side of Toby.

‟Cells bring out the worst in me.‟ Toby shrugged. He pulled over a bag and opened it. ‟Thanks for dinner.‟

Elliot nodded, locked the door, and headed back to his desk. It was late, and he was going home. He‛d call Father Michael in the morning and bring Toby some food. This wasn‛t exactly how he wanted to spend his weekend, but at least Toby was talking to him again. Elliot groaned. He was so pathetic.

*********

Toby rolled to his stomach and groaned. He still ached, and this cot was no better than a sheet of plywood, and he wanted to go home. All of this was far too familiar. He also wanted a drink. Even after all these years of sobriety, the craving came and went. His brain had been thoroughly addicted, and he remembered how nice it had been to be fuzzy. Chris had understood. He would laugh and say, ‛You need to suck on something? I got a long neck for ya.‛ Toby smiled at the memory. He‛d taken him up on it several times. What would Elliot say? Toby thought about it.

‟Want some coffee?‟

Toby blinked. That probably wasn‛t it. He looked over his shoulder. ‟Oh, it‛s you. Shit.‟

‟Good morning to you too.‟ Elliot held out a cup and a bag. ‟I went to Starbucks.‟

Toby moved fast and snatched. ‟Who made that crap in the lounge yesterday?‟

Elliot sighed. ‟Me. Thanks. A lot.‟

‟Sorry.‟ Toby didn‛t mean it. He took a sip. It was so good. ‟I don‛t think Lennon expected you to wait on me. I think he wanted me to suffer.‟

‟We don‛t serve meals here. We book them and transport them to the Tombs.‟ Elliot leaned against the bars. ‟He knew I‛d be babysitting you.‟

Toby looked in the bag. ‟I will be your bitch for this.‟

‟Uh, well, gee, that guy over there is watching.‟ Elliot rubbed his face. ‟I‛ll bring you enough to get through the day around one. Okay?‟

‟If you want.‟ Toby smiled. ‟Or we could send out for pizza.‟

‟Smartass.‟ Elliot went out and locked the door. ‟I need a life.‟

‟You‛re just now figuring that out?‟ Toby laughed just to irritate him. ‟I feel so much better about my crappy life.‟

Elliot grumbled something and left. Toby knew he was pushing his luck, but he didn‛t care. He nibbled the bear‛s claw, trying to make it last, and drank his coffee very slowly. Elliot was good to him, and he‛d be damned if he knew why.

*********

Elliot heard a phone ring, but it wasn‛t his. It took a moment before he realized it was Toby‛s. He opened his desk drawer, checked the caller I.D., and answered it anyway. ‟Hello?‟

‟Dad?‟

Elliot‛s heart dropped through the floor. ‟No. I‛m sorry. This is a friend of your dad. He can‛t come to the phone right now.‟

‟Is he in trouble?‟ The young girl sounded breathless.

‟He‛s fine. He just had to work, and he forgot his phone on my desk,‟ Elliot lied. ‟Can I have him call you?‟

‟Please.‟ She gulped. ‟You swear he‛s okay?‟

‟I swear, and I‛m a cop so I can‛t lie.‟ Elliot shut his eyes for a moment against her pain. ‟Is Angus there?‟

‟Yes. I‛ll get him.‟

Elliot waited and wanted to kill Lennon for doing this to him.

‟Toby?‟

‟No, this is Elliot Stabler.‟

‟Excuse me? What the hell is going on?‟

‟Is Toby‛s daughter still standing there?‟ Elliot paused. ‟Don‛t do this in front of her.‟

‟Don‛t lecture me.‟

Elliot heard the sound of a door shutting. Only then did he continue, ‟Toby‛s in lockup this weekend. Tell the kids that he had to work.‟

‟What the hell?‟ Angus went right to angry. ‟What did you do?‟

‟Toby‛s parole officer was pissed and put him in lockup for the weekend. Toby got in a fight with a cop, and it didn‛t go over well.‟ Elliot hesitated. ‟Toby‛s damn lucky that he‛s not on his way to Oz. Now, tell them that he‛s fine and he‛ll call Monday.‟

Angus was breathing hard. ‟Give me the name and number of Toby‛s parole officer.‟

Elliot dug it out and read it off. It was a damn fool idea, but he wasn‛t going to mention it. ‟Anything else?‟

‟Stay away from Toby, you jackass.‟ Angus hung up. Elliot stared at the phone and then shut it. He sensed that Angus didn‛t like him. Oh well. Since he had the phone out, he flipped through the address book and called Father Michael. That done, Elliot turned off the phone. He hated having to disappoint Toby‛s kids, but Angus needed to settle down and not make it worse for his brother.

‟Are you working today?‟

Elliot put the phone away and smiled at his boss. ‟Thought I might.‟

‟Good. Catch up on your paperwork.‟ Cragen looked around the office and lowered his voice. ‟He doing okay?‟

‟He was asleep. He grabbed the coffee and said something rude. I think he‛s fine.‟ Elliot thought it was interesting that Cragen seemed to like Toby.

‟Sounds like he is.‟ Cragen edged closer. ‟I‛m not going to cut him any slack, but . . . ‟

‟I know what you‛re saying.‟ Elliot did. Cragen had been drunk and dangerous more than once. He saw himself in Toby, trying to stay sober and do better. Elliot smiled a little. ‟Tell the truth - you were glad we went over there.‟

Cragen looked disgusted. ‟I didn‛t need the mess, but they had no business in our precinct.‟

Elliot nodded. He was curious about something. ‟You sending Toby to Novak?‟

‟No. He can work for her at his desk here. I don‛t keep him that busy.‟

Elliot was relieved, but he‛d never admit it. Cragen pointed at the pile of paperwork and went back to his office. Elliot found a pencil, turned on his computer, and got started. Toby should be glad he didn‛t have to fill out all this crap.

*********

Toby took off his shoes first and then his belt, and finally he pulled out his shirt and unbuttoned it. He‛d forgotten how boring jail was. In Oz, he‛d had work and always, always something to read. Here, nothing but men cursing. He wished he weren‛t so bruised up, but he was, and pushups and situps were impossible. Some long stretches were about as much as he could handle. Pacing was stupid. He did spend some time praying, but that got old fast.

He laced his hands behind his head and tried to come up with a plan for his future. He‛d definitely be working at SVU, and staying sober, and trying to get straight with Lennon. That last one might be the hardest, but he had to prove he was trustworthy so he could go home on weekends. This fucking fiasco with O‛Reily had set him back. If worse came to worst, he‛d see little of them until he was off parole in exactly one year, six months and twenty-six days. He‛d done hard time. This would be easy.

‟God, I‛m crazy.‟ Toby went to piss. It was something to do. He shook off, zipped up, and tossed his shirt on the cot. It was hot down here - too many men breathing the same air.

‟Please don‛t take the pants off,‟ Elliot drawled.

Toby turned around. ‟It‛s hot!‟ He was tempted to do just that, and he would later when things quieted down. ‟What‛s up with you?‟

Elliot opened the door and put a small cooler down by the cot. ‟Food and some drinks. I can‛t have you dying from thirst.‟

‟Maybe I can sell them for drugs.‟ Toby grinned his worst. He was feeling the stress.

Elliot rubbed his face. ‟Can we talk seriously for a minute? Turn off the attitude.‟

Toby scratched his stomach lazily and leaned against the bars. ‟Sure.‟

‟Your daughter called. I answered your phone and spoke to her.‟

‟Holly? Fuck!‟ Toby got right in Elliot‛s face. ‟Did you tell her that her skel dad had fucked up big time?‟

Elliot leaned slightly away. ‟No. I told her you had to work, and that you were fine. And I spoke to Angus. He was pretty mad.‟

‟Shit!‟ Toby whipped away from him and went to squeeze the bars. Now this was really fucked up. ‟Angus already thinks I‛m a goddamn loser!‟

‟He does or you do?‟ Elliot asked softly. He continued, ‟So, Lennon may come down here. If he does, I suggest you play nice.‟

Toby nodded. He‛d do what he had to do. ‟I get it. Kiss ass. Suck dick. I can do that. God damn it! I‛m always letting them down!‟

Elliot bit his lower lip. ‟You did the wrong thing for the right reasons. I have a feeling that it‛s a habit with you. This‛ll blow over, just don‛t make it worse.‟

‟Words to live by.‟ Toby put his hands in his hair and pulled, leaning his head against the bars. What a fucking mess and he‛d done it to himself. ‟I‛m sorry. I just get so frustrated with myself.‟

Elliot moved a little closer and put a hand on Toby‛s shoulder. ‟I know. Don‛t give up.‟

Toby turned and look him in the eye. He loved the touch, and it was all he could do not to beg for more. ‟Why not?‟

‟Haven‛t you come too far to quit now?‟ Elliot didn‛t look away.

‟Maybe so. I thought I‛d die a couple of times and it would all become moot.‟ Toby wanted to touch him, but wouldn‛t. He couldn‛t. It wasn‛t right. ‟Chris did what he wanted, and damn the consequences.‟

‟Did that work for him?‟ Elliot tilted his head to the side.

Toby didn‛t want to talk about Chris any longer. ‟What about you? Did you regret your rip?‟

‟Nah.‟ Elliot shook his head and smiled. ‟Hey, you want to shower and change clothes?‟

‟Do I have to suck dick to get it?‟ Toby knew he didn‛t smell all that good.

Elliot rolled his eyes. ‟No.‟

Toby put his shirt on. ‟Too bad,‟ he muttered. He didn‛t look to see if Elliot had heard him, but he‛d meant that.

*********

Elliot pretended he hadn‛t heard. It seemed the safest route to go. Toby was hip-deep in a prison attitude that Elliot had seen before and never particularly enjoyed dealing with. He left the cell open and went out to the sergeant.

‟I‛m taking my prisoner down to SVU for a little while. Don‛t put anyone in his cell.‟

‟No problem. We‛re quiet today.‟

Elliot opened the big door again, and Toby scooted out. ‟The other guys are so jealous.‟

‟You‛re funny.‟ Elliot didn‛t rush to the locker room. He wasn‛t in any hurry today. Toby started stripping as soon as they crossed the doorway. Elliot opened his mouth to warn him, but it died when Benson turned and gave Toby the look of death.

‟Like you haven‛t seen it before,‟ Toby said. He was half-naked by the time he‛d finished his sentence. Elliot fought not to laugh at the offended look on Benson‛s face. She was used to a little more respect. Elliot sat on the bench and waited for her to perp slap him.

‟Yes, but I don‛t want to see yours.‟

‟Then look somewhere else.‟ Toby was down to his boxers, and he shucked those off fast. He grabbed a towel and headed for the showers. Elliot kept his eyes on her. She was checking out Toby‛s ass. Elliot found it hard to criticize when he‛d done the same.

‟He has a swastika on his ass!‟ She wasn‛t quiet.

Toby stuck his head around the partition. ‟Elliot, did she miss a meeting?‟

‟I guess so.‟ Elliot laughed until he realized that Benson now wanted to kill him. ‟What?‟

‟What meeting?‟

‟Well, when Toby was in Oz, the Nazis gave him that. I think he‛s still pissed about it.‟ Elliot kept it light. If she wanted to know more, she could read the file.

Benson straightened her jacket. ‟He probably wised off once too often!‟

Elliot shrugged. He wasn‛t going to discuss it. Toby was alive and able to crack jokes about it - that‛s what mattered. ‟Olivia, try to be sensitive to the man‛s pain.‟

She gave him a long look. ‟I‛m going home. I‛ll see you Monday.‟

‟Bye.‟ Elliot smiled. She‛d get over it. He did his best to sit quietly and not think about the naked man in the shower. Had Chris kissed that swastika? Elliot groaned softly and rubbed his eyes. He couldn‛t afford to think that way. It‛d lead to a bad place.

‟Wow, I feel better.‟

‟You smell better too.‟ Elliot kept his eyes away, but he wanted to look. ‟I‛ll bring clean clothes for you Monday morning. Lennon said to let you out then.‟

Toby didn‛t reply, and Elliot didn‛t look to see why. Finally, Toby straddled the bench right in front of him. Now, their eyes met. ‟Thanks.‟ He slipped on his wife-beater.

Elliot felt almost helpless to resist, and he gently lay his hand on Toby‛s thigh. ‟Anything else?‟

‟A pile of books would be nice, but I suppose you‛d get in trouble.‟ Toby seemed to be staring at the hand. ‟I don‛t know what you‛re thinking, but for your sake, you should stop.‟

‟I know.‟ Elliot squeezed Toby‛s thigh. ‟I‛ll be in late tomorrow morning. I go to Mass.‟

Toby nodded and slowly put his hand on top of Elliot‛s. ‟What would Chris say?‟

The back of Elliot‛s hand grew a little warm, and Toby‛s pinkie nudged Elliot‛s. It was an easy touch, but it felt like a bridge between them. The heat settled through Elliot‛s body and he knew he wouldn‛t be backing away from this. He‛d take it as far as Toby let him. It was scary to feel so certain about a man.

‟Chris, maybe, cared about us both.‟ Elliot would think more about it later, when they weren‛t touching. ‟Let‛s go back.‟

‟Okay.‟ Toby gave a shake of his head, and his hair got Elliot wet. ‟Oops.‟

Elliot got to his feet, pulling his hand away slowly. ‟You need a cut.‟

‟I‛m a rebel.‟ Toby laughed and was right behind him as they went out. ‟You were too. What happened?‟

Elliot wished that Chris had found something to talk about other than his cousin. ‟Life. And you‛re not.‟

Toby gave him a sharp look. ‟I wasn‛t, but now, I think, I must be because I‛m no good at staying on the straight and narrow.‟

‟It takes practice.‟ Elliot put his hand on Toby‛s shoulder. It was to guide him, nothing else. ‟How are all those bruises?‟

‟Not bad. My leg and back hurt the worst.‟ Toby smiled at him. ‟Tell Father Michael I‛ll be at Monday‛s meeting.‟

‟I will.‟ Elliot opened the main door. He felt the tension in Toby‛s shoulder. Toby didn‛t want to go back, but he would. Elliot shut the cell door slowly. ‟Okay?‟

‟No, but I‛ll be fine.‟ Toby peeled off the wife-beater and threw it on the cot. ‟You‛re a good guy, Elliot.‟

Elliot didn‛t believe that for a minute. ‟Compliments will get you coffee, bitch.‟

Toby jerked in surprise. His eyes widened and then he laughed. Elliot left with the sound in his ears. He liked it.

********

Toby investigated the contents of his cooler and found enough food to make him smile. He ate a sandwich. It was pretty good, and he washed it down with a bottle of water.

‟Give me some of that, fucker!‟

‟Fuck you.‟ Toby sat on his cot and thought about Elliot. Elliot was one of the good guys, and how he‛d managed it growing up with Chris Keller was one of the seven wonders of the world. Of course, that didn‛t mean that Elliot was perfect. Hell no. He was pig-headed and not shy about throwing a punch, but he tried to do what was right for the right reasons. Chris had done what he wanted, and fuck anyone who got in his way. He‛d even fucked over Toby.

Toby would never forget him. He‛d promised not to, and he wouldn‛t, but Elliot had touched him. An easy touch that promised more. Did he know it? Toby took another drink of water. It was going to be a long weekend.

*********

Elliot smiled. ‟Toby wanted me to tell you hello and apologize again for skipping out on you.‟

Father Michael raised his eyebrows. ‟Is he okay? I still can‛t believe he was beaten at work!‟

‟He‛s doing better. He‛ll be at group on Monday.‟ Elliot made a note that Toby confided in Father Michael. It was something to remember.

‟We‛ll manage. We always do.‟ Father Michael bustled away. Elliot sighed. He was Catholic. There was no excuse for him leaving when Father Michael needed help.

Elliot got out his cell phone. ‟Munch? I need your help with Beecher.‟

********

‟Toby, do you believe in hell?‟ Munch held out a large cup of coffee.

Toby grinned and took it. ‟Thanks. And no.‟

‟I knew you had Jewish blood in you.‟ Munch looked him up and down. ‟How‛re you doing?‟

‟Bored out of my mind.‟ Toby sipped his coffee. It was the good stuff. ‟Where‛s Elliot?‟

‟Filling in for you at St. Mark‛s.‟ Munch laughed. ‟Guilt is a wonderful thing, but more importantly, let me tell you the secret behind dealing with Lennon.‟

‟I‛m all ears.‟ Toby smiled.

Munch touched his ears. ‟Smartass. Okay, here it is - Lennon seems lazy and slow, but he isn‛t. Not at all. It‛s a ploy to suck you in, and then he gets the last laugh.‟

‟He sure did.‟ Toby made a motion with his hand. ‟Go on.‟

‟Since he was a cop, he knows all the tricks. So, for however much time you have left - do nothing but work, shit, group, and sleep. And if you aren‛t sure whether you should do something, don‛t.‟

‟That‛s profound.‟ Toby thought maybe Munch was right. ‟I blame it on my enthusiasm for helping out SVU. I should‛ve let Novak promise McFadden the moon.‟

‟Exactly. You should have done nothing.‟ Munch leaned against the bars and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‟And you‛re on your own with Benson.‟

Toby laughed. ‟I gave up on that.‟ He saw the sparkle in Munch‛s eyes. ‟She hates drunks.‟

‟We all have our crosses to bear.‟ Munch pointed at him. ‟Put yours down occasionally.‟

Toby blinked in astonishment. ‟This from a good Jewish boy. I think I‛ll take it to heart.‟

‟Good.‟ Munch nudged the cooler with his foot. ‟Empty?‟

‟Pretty much.‟ Toby opened it and took out the last water. ‟Thanks for the coffee.‟

Munch took the cooler and left without another word. Toby smiled after him. Munch was an enigma, but definitely a man that Toby was willing to share a cell with.

*********

Elliot went home to shower. He smelled like salami and mothballs. It wasn‛t an attractive combination. Everyone had asked after Toby. They all liked him and were worried about him. They‛d heard that he‛d been beaten badly, and they wanted details. He‛d played stupid. Church was a wonderful place to pick up all the gossip, but he was staying out of it this time.

Clean and dressed, he checked the time. Nearly one. Toby was probably hungry. Elliot was too. He made a call and grabbed his keys. The squadroom wasn‛t busy. Even Cragen had gone home. Elliot hung up his coat and went to his desk. The cooler was on it, and he put it on the floor.

‟This for you?‟

Elliot looked up and smiled. He paid the young man, bought a couple of sodas, and headed to lockup. The sergeant got the door for him, and he went in quietly.

‟God, I must be hallucinating. I smell pizza.‟ Toby had his arm over his face. Elliot realized that he couldn‛t get the cell door open with his hands full. He chuckled, and Toby was instantly on his feet. ‟Shit!‟

‟Hey, I need help. Come get the key out of my pocket.‟ Elliot almost blushed.

Toby laughed now. He stuck his arm out through the bars and into Elliot‛s jeans. Elliot felt like a stupid teenager for a second. Toby fished it out and unlocked the cell door. ‟They never let me do that at Oz!‟

Elliot grinned. He put the pizza on the cot. ‟You wanted pizza?‟

‟Fuck, yes!‟ Toby tossed him the key. Elliot caught it easily, tucked it away, and sat down. Toby took the other side. ‟Supreme?‟

‟Of course.‟ Elliot tried to look offended. ‟Where are all your buddies?‟

‟They took the last one out this morning.‟ Toby pushed his hair. ‟I was beginning to think I was in one of those Twilight Zone episodes.‟

‟Where you‛re the last man on Earth?‟ Elliot opened the box. It did smell good. ‟And you‛re stuck in jail?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Toby took a deep breath. ‟Well, it‛s official. I‛m your bitch.‟

‟Good,‟ Elliot muttered as he shoved a slice in his mouth. He hoped that Toby hadn‛t heard him. Toby starting eating, saying nothing. He was totally focused on the food. Elliot relaxed and did the same. When he‛d finished three slices, he came up for air. ‟Everyone asked about you today at church. I think they like you.‟

Toby shrugged. ‟They‛re all nice, but once they found out I wasn‛t Catholic, they stopped talking about their daughters.‟

Elliot laughed. ‟Some things never change.‟ He popped open his soda. ‟Long night?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Toby wasn‛t smiling now. ‟All the old nightmares came out to play.‟

‟Some nights I don‛t even try to sleep.‟ Elliot didn‛t want to get in a pissing match about old traumas so he changed the subject. ‟Did Lennon come down here?‟

‟No, but I‛d be willing to bet that I‛m seeing him tomorrow.‟ Toby didn‛t act like the thought bothered him. Elliot rubbed his back against the bars and got a little more comfortable. He just wanted to sit and talk. Toby suddenly looked away. ‟I‛ve seen Chris do that. Are you sure you weren‛t twins, and your parents lied to you?‟

Elliot‛s brain froze up. It pretty much shut down for a second, and then he was back. He had never looked at Chris‛s birth certificate. ‟I‛m not going there.‟

‟I don‛t blame you.‟ Toby popped a black olive in his mouth. ‟When it warms up, could you, if you didn‛t mind, take me out to his grave?‟

Guilt and anger crashed over him. His eyes felt hot with unshed tears. ‟If you want.‟

Toby seemed to clear his throat. ‟You can just give me directions, if you want. I‛m sorry.‟

Elliot wanted to run right out of the cell to the safety of his desk, but it wouldn‛t help. ‟I‛ll take you, but we ain‛t going to turn it into a sob festival.‟

Toby surprised him. He picked up the pizza box, put it on the floor, switched end for end, and plunked his head in Elliot‛s lap. ‟Ah, that‛s better. Would it kill them to put pillows in these cells?‟

Elliot wanted to laugh and shove him off at the same time. He chuckled softly and kept his hands in safe territory. He‛d thought that he could find out what Chris loved in this man, and then run away - far away. Chris had ended up dead. Elliot stared down at him. He saw it so clearly today, and his feet were rooted to the floor. ‟Wimp.‟

‟That‛s me.‟ Toby shut his eyes and laced his hands across his stomach. His legs dangled off, but he appeared comfortable. Elliot let him rest.

*********

Toby shut his eyes and breathed in the smell of him. This close, it overpowered the stench of the cells. He relaxed and pretended they were in his apartment, and they‛d had sex, and he was safe. Safe. He smiled. Time slipped away, nothing chased him, and when he finally took a long stretch, his hand bumped into Elliot‛s chest. He blinked and looked again. It was Elliot, and that was good.

‟Hey, El.‟

‟I shouldn‛t like the sound of that.‟ Elliot‛s hand gently brushed over Toby‛s face. ‟I should go.‟

Toby leaned up, but he took one second to press his body into Elliot‛s chest. It felt so damn good that he almost felt guilty. Elliot‛s arm came around him, and Toby knew he hadn‛t made a mistake. The touch gave him something that he hadn‛t had in a very long time, and he wanted to clutch at it like a lost child would a favorite stuffed animal.

Elliot sighed. ‟Too far to back out now, I guess.‟

‟I didn‛t want this. I fought it.‟ Toby took a deep breath that came up from his groin. ‟I‛m not to blame.‟

Elliot kissed him on the forehead. ‟I know. I think Chris would understand.‟

‟Well, I don‛t.‟ Toby didn‛t want to ever move, but he did because he sensed it was time to turn him loose. ‟I‛ve said thanks a lot this weekend, and mostly for you.‟

‟Part of this was on me.‟ Elliot slowly got to his feet, stretching. ‟I‛ll stop in late. Okay?‟

‟You don‛t have to. I can make it until morning.‟ Toby refused to beg for another touch. Elliot picked up the trash and shrugged as if to say that he‛d do what he wanted. He locked the door and left. Toby went to the bars and watched. He sighed. Chris should‛ve warned him. Maybe Chris had.

********

Elliot went to see his kids. While he was there, he took a good long look at his wife. She was pretty. He‛d loved her once. Hadn‛t he? Or had it all been about life grabbing him and making him over into something he‛d never intended. Life sure had messed with Chris.

‟You‛ve got that look on your face,‟ Kathy said.

‟What look?‟ Elliot drank some beer. Dinner was soon.

Kathy rolled her eyes. ‟The one I hate. The one that I saw too often.‟ She came over closer to the table. ‟The one where you have no idea why we were married at all.‟

Elliot was used to the guilt. ‟I loved you.‟

‟Did you?‟ Kathy went back to the stove.

‟I must have.‟ Elliot frowned. ‟Was I so weak that I couldn‛t make my own decisions? I let life yank me around?‟

Kathy raised her eyebrows. ‟You let your father tell you what to do. You saw what was happening to Chris and you were scared.‟

Elliot drank some more beer. ‟I guess I was the smart one, since Chris is dead.‟

Kathy didn‛t reply. Elliot was glad. He didn‛t feel smart. The kids came through the kitchen and grabbed him up for a game of Sorry. It seemed appropriate.

*********

Toby wished he had a watch. It seemed like days since Elliot had left. Maybe it had been. He grabbed a crossbar and hung, wishing that he wasn‛t such a damn fool.

‟What are you here for?‟

Toby glanced at the guy taking up space in the cell next to him. ‟Parole violation. You?‟

‟DUI.‟ The guy laughed. It seemed out of place - forced. ‟You‛d think I killed someone!‟

‟Did you?‟ Toby saw a glimpse of himself in that man, and he didn‛t like it at all.

‟Nah. Just killed a dumpster.‟ He came over to the bars and stuck out his hand. ‟Samuel Dean.‟

‟Toby Beecher.‟ Toby shook the offered hand. ‟Your lawyer is getting you out, right?‟

‟He‛s on it.‟ Dean grinned. ‟He‛ll get me off.‟

Toby hoped not. ‟There‛s an AA group at St. Mark‛s.‟

‟Don‛t preach it, buddy. I‛m not a drunk.‟ Dean laughed heartily. He was a bona fide prick. ‟I just had a few too many!‟

‟Whatever.‟ Toby went to sit on his cot. He had thought the same, until Kathy Rockwell had splattered against his windshield.

Dean paced. He‛d been doing that on and off for hours. ‟You‛d drink too if you had my wife!‟

‟My wife killed herself because I was sent to prison on a DUI.‟ Toby smiled in that way that scared people. He had hated her for it at first, but after all these years, he only felt remorse.

‟No shit?‟ Dean stopped to stare at him. ‟Mine would never do that. We have kids!‟

‟So did I. My youngest was barely one.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟I‛m sure your wife enjoys your drinking.‟

Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead. It was hot down here. Toby still didn‛t have a shirt on. He leaned back against the bars and waited. At least this conversation was making the time pass faster.

‟What was prison like?‟ Dean frowned.

‟Pretty damn bad.‟ Toby ran his hands through his hair and pulled out a few tangles. A haircut was a good idea.

‟Do they really rape white guys like they say on TV all the time?‟ Dean was somewhere between worried and morbidly curious.

Toby took his time answering. He made him wait for it. ‟Not if you‛re old and ugly, but you aren‛t. Hurts like hell.‟

‟Fuck,‟ Dean said softly. ‟You lying to me?‟

‟This is what they do to pretty white boys in prison, and you are pretty.‟ Toby got up and showed off the worst part of him. ‟Of course, the Aryans might not get a hold of you. The homeboys might, and if that happens, well, you won‛t live to make parole.‟

Dean collapsed on his bunk and put his head in his hands. ‟I didn‛t hurt anyone.‟

‟Not yet. Hope for the best.‟ Toby laughed. He wanted to scare the guy. ‟I lived through being shanked.‟ He twisted his back to show off his scar. ‟Some don‛t.‟

Dean seemed to get smaller.

‟It was when they broke my arms and legs that I wanted to die.‟ Toby rubbed his wrist. ‟No, I take that back. It was when I wouldn‛t pay them their blood money so they sent someone to kill my son. That‛s when I wanted to die.‟

Dean gasped. ‟You‛ve got to be lying!‟

‟I wish I was, you fool.‟ Toby shrugged and went back to his cot. He laced his hands behind his head. ‟Once they find out you‛re rich, they make you pay and pay. And if you don‛t . . . ‟ He didn‛t finish the sentence, and he didn‛t feel guilty for the lie. Vern had killed Gary, but it hadn‛t been about money. It had been far more complicated. Toby didn‛t wipe away the tear that trickled from the corner of his eye down his face. He could never cry enough tears for his son.

‟If it‛s so awful, why did you violate your parole?‟ Dean wasn‛t stupid.

Toby sat up and looked at him. ‟That‛s the thing. Prison doesn‛t let you go easy. I had a buddy. He did me a favor. I had to do him a favor. It landed me here. You think you can walk out those big doors and leave it all behind, but you can‛t.‟

‟Try harder,‟ Elliot growled.

Toby laughed, but he knew it was a bitter sound. ‟I‛ll give a shot. What‛s up, Detective?‟

Elliot opened the door and pulled out his cuffs. ‟We have a tiny problem.‟

‟Great. Just great.‟ Toby had seen this bad ass version of Elliot before, but this time, he hoped it wasn‛t for him. He turned and put his hands on his head, playing it up for Dean.

Elliot picked up Toby‛s shirt and hit him with it. ‟First, that.‟

Toby put it on. Elliot pushed him hard against the bars and thoroughly searched him, which was ridiculous. Toby saw Dean‛s face. Dean was having an epiphany.

‟You can‛t rough him up like that!‟

Elliot pulled Toby‛s arms back roughly and cuffed him. ‟He‛s an ex-con. He has no rights. He can‛t vote. He can‛t own a car, and he sure as hell can‛t complain.‟

Toby let out a grunt. ‟Take it easy, Dean. The cop is right.‟

Elliot dragged him out and down the short hallway. When they cleared the door, Elliot stopped. ‟Think he got the message?‟

‟Well, I sure did.‟ Toby winced. ‟These are too tight!‟

Elliot took the cuffs off. ‟Come on.‟

Toby straightened his sweats. ‟I think you liked feeling me up.‟

Elliot didn‛t answer that, but he smirked. Toby followed those wide shoulders to the squadroom. When they got there, Toby asked with dread in his heart, ‟What‛s the problem?‟

‟No coffee. Go make some, will ya? I put dinner on your desk.‟ Elliot gave him a sly look. ‟You could check your email, if you wanted.‟

Toby shook his head. ‟You had me worried!‟

‟I said it was a tiny problem.‟ Elliot went to his desk. Toby wanted to smack the back of Elliot‛s head, but he went to make coffee instead. Cops had to have their coffee. He snickered. He‛d been rescued from lockup for a caffeine emergency. At least he did something right. He washed out the pot, got it started, and ignored the mess.

‟Is Beecher still in lockup?‟

Toby went to the rail and watched Elliot try to think of an answer. ‟Uh, well . . .‟

‟Go get him. My computer is completely locked up and TARU went home!‟ Cragen looked disgusted.

Elliot turned his chair. ‟Toby! Get down here and fix Cragen‛s computer before he has a meltdown!‟

Toby came down the stairs, laughing. Cragen glared at them both. ‟He has been in lockup, right?‟

‟There was a coffee emergency,‟ Toby said before Elliot could open his big mouth.

‟Thank God you made it and not him.‟ Cragen pointed at his office. ‟Go fix it.‟

‟Yes, sir.‟ Toby looked longingly at the food on his desk, but he didn‛t argue. Luckily, it didn‛t take long to straighten out the computer. ‟Is this real food?‟

‟Kathy made a plate for you.‟

‟Wow.‟ Toby picked up the fork. ‟Can I marry her next?‟

‟Dickhead.‟

Toby turned on his computer and ate his food. He noticed it was nine o‛clock at night. Late. Elliot had warned him. Angus had sent him a long email, detailing the conversation that he‛d had with Lennon. Toby figured that his parole officer hated him now. Angus had made that situation worse with his big mouth. The other two were from his kids, and he answered those first. When he finished, he read the news. He didn‛t look away until Elliot leaned against the desk.

‟Did you enjoy seeing your kids?‟ Toby did want to know, but he was stalling for time.

‟Yeah. Kathy hadn‛t let me stay for dinner in months.‟ Elliot smiled, but not big. ‟She‛s a good woman.‟

‟She deserves better than you.‟

Elliot‛s jaw clenched. ‟Exactly.‟

‟Whip yourself with a wet noodle and do ten Hail Marys.‟ Toby sighed. He and Elliot both liked to take all the blame.

Elliot crossed his arms. ‟And she thinks I‛m a smartass. I‛m thinking about letting her talk to you. I‛ll come out smelling like a rose.‟

‟Thank her for me.‟ Toby laughed and made sure he‛d eaten every crumb. ‟Seriously, can I have a pillow?‟

Elliot stared, rubbed his mouth, and then laughed. ‟You make me nuts.‟

‟I hope Dean is gone. I want some sleep tonight.‟ Toby shut down his computer. He was ready but not willing.

‟Go up to the crib and get a pillow.‟ Elliot grinned. ‟But I‛m telling everyone what a wimp you are.‟

Toby went to get a pillow. That was no threat at all. One more night and he was done.

*********

Elliot delivered Toby, his clothes, and his coffee to the locker room before going to his desk. It had been a long weekend, and he was glad it was over. Next time, Munch could babysit. Elliot nearly laughed at himself. He was a liar, and he needed to go to confession.

‟Benson, Stabler, get a move on this one.‟

Elliot grabbed the paper from him. He‛d think about Toby later.

*********  
Chapter Six - Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost. John 5:35

Toby cleaned out his locker and went home. It had been the day from hell, and he still had AA tonight. He could‛ve called a cab, but he walked. It felt good to go somewhere. It wasn‛t raining, but it was cold. Burrowing into his coat, he tried not to think about his lunchtime meeting with Lennon. It had definitely spoiled his appetite. One more fuckup and he was back at the halfway house. Angus had made it worse, not better.

‟You think because your brother is some fancy lawyer, I‛m gonna give you a free ride?‟ Lennon had yelled. ‟Think again, asswipe!‟

Toby had wanted to act tough, curse, and hit someone, but all he‛d done was apologize. He didn‛t want to lose what he had. Lockup had brought that lesson home. It was like Munch said. Toby had to do nothing. Control himself. It wasn‛t easy. At Oz, if he beat the crap out of someone, he‛d end up in the hole, but no one cared. He hadn‛t even cared. Out here, he had to behave, be a member of society, and he‛d have never guessed that it would be so hard. Whiskey would make it easier, but that wasn‛t an option. He wouldn‛t drink. He‛d hunker down and do nothing.

*********

Elliot pulled himself off the cot in the crib and headed for the coffee pot. He was tired, still tired, but he had work to do. The winter blahs were over, and people were dropping dead all over Manhattan. The ones that weren‛t dead were bloody. He hadn‛t spoken a word to anyone that wasn‛t work related in longer than he could remember.

His open cases were down to three though, and he had some hope that he‛d see his bed again tonight. It‛d be so nice. He stretched, sipped his coffee, and went downstairs. As he passed Toby‛s desk, he wondered how Toby was getting along. Toby worked, and he went home. Elliot didn‛t know any more than that. There wasn‛t any time, not right now, but maybe in a couple of days.

‟Hey, Elliot, have you seen Toby Beecher?‟

Elliot turned to see Morales from TARU. ‟Hey, Morales. No, I haven‛t. You need something?‟

Morales shook his head. ‟I‛ll leave a note on his desk.‟

Elliot shrugged. He picked up his latest case and took it to Munch‛s desk. They needed to talk. Munch grinned. ‟Now Morales, I know which team he bats for.‟

‟What?‟ Elliot looked over at Morales again. ‟Him?‟

‟And Toby?‟ Munch leaned back in his chair. ‟Never know. I love office romances.‟

‟You love laughing at them.‟ Elliot didn‛t like the conclusions that Munch was drawing. ‟You really think? Hell, never mind.‟ He opened the file. ‟Let‛s do this instead.‟

*********

Toby pulled another chair up by the computer. ‟Show me.‟

Morales grinned and his fingers flew. Toby smiled. ‟Does anyone call you Ruben?‟

‟No one that‛s alive to talk about it.‟ Morales tried to sound menacing, but it fell flat. ‟My parents were conflicted.‟

Toby laughed. ‟I always thought my name sounded Jewish.‟

‟You aren‛t?‟

Toby sighed and put his chin on his fist. ‟No. But the whole family is made up of lawyers.‟

‟Denial. They‛re in denial.‟

They laughed together. Toby wasn‛t sure why Morales liked him, but they were friends, and it was nice not to be so alone. Elliot hadn‛t spoken to him in forever. Hadn‛t even looked at him. Toby had never been so completely ignored. Chris had been an amateur compared to his cousin. Toby knew what it meant. Elliot had changed his mind. He‛d remembered that Toby was a skel, and he wasn‛t interested. He‛d felt sorry for Toby, but nothing else. That touch in lockup had meant nothing - nothing and the thought hurt.

‟You see?‟

‟Damn.‟ Toby pulled his eyes off his shoes and looked at the screen. ‟NASA should do something about that.‟

Morales nodded. ‟I sent them an email. Maybe they‛ll fix it.‟

Toby got to his feet. ‟Want a soda or something?‟

‟Could we . . . go out for coffee?‟ Morales didn‛t look sure of himself.

Toby hesitated. It was only seven o‛clock at night, but he had stayed home unless he was at group since Lennon had put him in lockup. ‟There‛s a coffee shop around the corner. I guess we could.‟

Morales smiled. ‟You‛re being careful, aren‛t you?‟

‟Very.‟ Toby was embarrassed to admit that he was such a pussy. ‟Let me grab my keys.‟

They went out together and down the stairs, and Toby couldn‛t believe it when he saw Elliot. Had Elliot been home lately? Toby didn‛t know. He hoped Elliot would talk to him. Come up the stairs. Something. Even a look. Please.

‟Hey, Morales.‟ Elliot yawned. He seemed to blink and finally he said, ‟Toby. Hey.‟

‟Hey.‟ Morales smiled. ‟Come on, Toby.‟

Toby felt rooted to the floor, waiting for a word, but Elliot said nothing, and his eyes stayed far away. Toby gave up. He wasn‛t able to choke out any words. Morales patted him on the back, and the touch seemed to sear through him. For some reason, he thought he had a pier in his future.

*********

Elliot thought his head might explode. Munch was right. Morales and Toby were a couple. They were dating. Oh shit. Elliot leaned against his door, fumbled it open, and nearly fell down. He‛d held Toby in his arms. They‛d shared something, and then he‛d done nothing but work. It was over before he‛d had a chance. Toby had found someone else. He had walked away.

‟God damn it!‟ Elliot threw his coat in a chair. He squeezed his head and sat down. He‛d thought, maybe, if he could, they‛d have something. ‟Fuck!‟

Toby hadn‛t waited. He hadn‛t cared. Elliot got up and went to bed. Fuck him.

**********

Toby pulled Munch aside in the lounge. ‟What‛s wrong with Elliot?‟

‟I don‛t know who pissed in his coffee, but we all need to hide.‟

Toby nodded. ‟My desk is way too close.‟

‟I‛m closer than you are,‟ Munch grumbled. Toby slunk down the stairs. He had some memos to type, and a case to research, and a lounge to clean. Maybe, if he didn‛t look at him, nothing bad would happen. Work dragged, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole. Elliot had lasers hooked to his eyes and was trying to kill him slowly. Toby was sure of it.

‟Where‛s Beecher?‟

Toby bit back a groan of frustration.

Elliot hooked his thumb at him. ‟And if you throw him in lockup this weekend, you can feed the asswipe!‟

Lennon laughed, and Toby got to his feet. Shame poured over him. ‟Hey Elliot, kiss my ass!‟

Elliot was on his feet in a blink. ‟You trying to start trouble? ‛Cause I guarantee that I‛ll finish it!‟

Toby didn‛t back down. ‟It‛d be worth it to smack your fat head just once!‟

Lennon grabbed him and marched him out into the hallway. ‟I thought you were doing better!‟

Toby took a deep breath. He wasn‛t going to screw this up. ‟I am. I am! He just gets to me.‟

‟Well, you better get it under control. Right now!‟ Lennon poked Toby in the chest with a big finger. ‟This is the kind of shit that you don‛t need.‟

Toby nodded, but he wasn‛t really listening. He had done nothing wrong. ‟I‛m okay.‟

‟Good.‟ Lennon frowned. ‟Now, you‛re a lawyer, ain‛t ya?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Toby wrenched his attention away from Elliot. ‟What do you need?‟

‟Let‛s go talk privately.‟

Toby gave Elliot one more glare before going with Lennon. It looked like he‛d be doing some pro bono work. Lennon was going to use him like the bitch he was.

*********

Elliot came into the squadroom and looked around. Everyone had gone home. Shit. Everyone but Toby. Toby was clicking away at his computer - his shoulders slightly hunched. Elliot sat down, leaned back, and found a straw to chew.

‟Your boyfriend make you get a haircut?‟ Elliot nearly flinched at the jealousy that was so obvious in his tone.

Toby glanced over his shoulder. ‟You did. Remember?‟

Elliot didn‛t. He might have mentioned it was long, but that was it. ‟Lennon bust you up?‟

‟Elliot, you‛ve made it clear that you don‛t like me - again - so leave me alone.‟ Toby didn‛t look at him this time.

Elliot didn‛t know what to say to that. He hadn‛t made anything clear. It was all messed up. ‟How‛s the pier sound?‟

‟Fine. I don‛t care.‟ Toby took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked like a lawyer with glasses and short hair. Maybe that‛s why he hadn‛t cut it before. Elliot fumed. He wanted some answers, and he didn‛t know how to get them.

‟When Chris was angry about something, what did he do?‟ Elliot snapped.

Toby turned now - his blue eyes sharp. ‟He killed people.‟

Elliot threw the straw away. He had no words for this because he‛d never thought to feel this way, and the fact that he understood Chris‛s frustration worried him. ‟You like Morales?‟

‟He‛s a nice guy,‟ Toby said. He didn‛t sound too enthusiastic. ‟I told him to forget it.‟

Elliot was out of his chair fast. He parked his butt on Toby‛s desk. ‟Why?‟

Toby swallowed hard. ‟I‛m already your bitch.‟

‟Don‛t even whisper those words.‟ Elliot put his finger in Toby‛s face. ‟Never!‟

********

Toby got up fast and left the squadroom. He had to get away. Morales had wanted more than Toby had to give. Toby had felt awful about it. They were still friends, but that meant nothing and they both knew it. Toby sat down hard on the bench in the locker room. He shouldn‛t have said that to Elliot, even if it was true. Chris would have been thrilled to hear those words, but Elliot had only looked horrified.

‟The courage to fix the things I can,‟ Toby whispered. He hated that part of the pledge. It made people think that they could make things better, and that was a lie. Control was an illusion foistered on society by men in suits with lots of money. He clasped his hands together and shut his eyes. He had no choice. He‛d work, he‛d go to group, and he‛d sleep. The tenets of Munch as Toby had taken to calling them. The Tao of Munch, when he was feeling goofy.

‟You gonna cry?‟

‟Shut up, Elliot. You can treat your wife like shit, but not me.‟ Toby got to his feet slowly. ‟Lennon isn‛t around to save your ass now.‟

Elliot drew his head back. ‟I thought you were my bitch.‟ He drawled out the last word and made it as insulting as possible.

Toby sat back down before he hit him and didn‛t stop until blood ran. ‟You‛re angry. Fine. You‛re a fucker. Fine. I am not going to kill you for it.‟

‟You talking to me or yourself?‟

‟Myself.‟ Toby spread his knees and took a deep breath. Control. Control. ‟I‛m going to work, group, sleep and do nothing. I am not going to fight with a repressed, angry, over-sized twin of the man who broke my arms. I am not!‟

Elliot took a step back in what might have been astonishment. Toby shoved past him and ran. He turned off his computer fast, sending the information to his home computer. Grabbing his coat, he left the building before he lost it all again. Lennon would love to send him away for hitting a cop. The walk home wasn‛t long enough, and Toby ran up the stairs. Hiding was a very good choice right now. He‛d trusted Elliot. He loved him. And it was all nothing but shit. Elliot was Chris - again! It hurt so much that he locked the door and slid down it to the floor.

********

Elliot slammed every door that he could until he stood at the base of the stairs that led to Toby‛s apartment. Anger didn‛t begin to describe it, and mixed in with it was a heavy dose of guilt. He‛d made an assumption, and it had bitten him in the ass. Blaming fatigue was a lie. It had been his inability to trust. He wanted to trust Toby, but it was so damn hard. The instant he‛d worked a few long hours, Toby had found another friend. Elliot cursed softly and gripped the rail of the staircase. He was a jealous fool.

Before he knew what he was doing, he knocked on the door. ‟Toby, let me in so we can talk.‟

Toby unlocked the door, but he stood in it. ‟Go away. Please. Don‛t brutalize me like your cousin did.‟

Elliot wanted to pull his hair and scream from frustration. ‟Let‛s not discuss this in the hallway.‟

‟Let‛s not discuss this.‟ Toby got out of the way though. Elliot went inside and locked the door behind him. They merely looked at each for what seemed like forever. Toby finally said, ‟I‛m not strong enough to work, stay sober, and fight with you. In prison, I just fought with Chris. It was my life. I can‛t do that out here!‟

‟I don‛t want to fight.‟ Elliot pushed his hand through his hair. ‟I thought you and Morales were, well, you know. I had a rough couple of weeks. I turned around, and you were gone. Like Kathy.‟

Toby took his coat off. He hung it up and went to the fridge. ‟Want a soda?‟

‟No.‟ Elliot had spilled his guts all over the carpet, and all Toby did was go to the fridge? ‟I‛m sorry.‟

Toby slumped down in a chair with his soda. ‟I shouldn‛t have said that bitch thing. I‛m sorry. Prison habits die hard.‟

‟I don‛t want you to think you‛re my bitch. It‛s degrading to both of us.‟ Elliot almost took his coat off, but changed his mind. He didn‛t think he was welcome here tonight. ‟You tired?‟

‟Exhausted.‟ Toby waved his hand at the computer. ‟And I have to finish that thing for Lennon by tomorrow.‟

‟What‛s he making you do?‟ Elliot didn‛t like the sound of that.

‟I‛m drawing up some contracts for him. While I‛m not your bitch, I am his.‟ Toby rubbed his face. ‟Leave. Will ya?‟

Elliot hesitated. There had to be more he could say. ‟I have the day off tomorrow.‟

Toby took his soda to the computer desk. He didn‛t even glance at him. ‟Elliot, you‛re asking for too much from a dirty skel. You need to go.‟

‟I‛ll . . . leave you alone.‟ Elliot made the only decision possible now that he cared. He opened the door. ‟I promise.‟

Toby turned his face further away. Elliot walked out, feeling as if he‛d been stuck by lightning. He‛d tried, but it was already too late. His anger had killed whatever they might have had. He leaned against the wall and breathed hard. There was no blaming Toby this time. Toby couldn‛t handle it - couldn‛t handle him. Elliot walked out of the building and down to Manny‛s.

*********  
Chapter Seven - Give beer to those who are perishing, wine to those who are in anguish; let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more. Proverbs 31:6/7

Toby marked off the day in red. Three more months and he was free. He was starting to think that he‛d make it. On his last day, he was leaving here so fast that his underwear would catch fire from the friction in the air.

‟Not much longer, huh?‟ Munch asked.

‟No. I hope I can make it without another ass-kicking.‟ Toby put the calendar away. ‟I have to admit though, this job is never dull.‟

‟Not even when we could use a break.‟ Munch wandered away. He did that during conversations. Toby had learned not to take it personally. He had nothing going on tonight, and he was looking forward to a quiet evening. The internet was now his window to the world, and his latest book would come soon. It was amazing how cheap some people would sell books. The bookcases that he‛d put in his bedroom were filling up.

‟Elliot! Pull your head out of your ass and get your fives done!‟

Toby cringed. Cragen had about had it with Elliot. At first, there had been office visits, now Cragen just bawled him out at his desk. Elliot didn‛t seem to give a damn. He‛d nod or shrug. Toby had never even heard Cragen curse until recently.

‟Elliot, you want some help catching up?‟ Toby went over to Elliot‛s desk and ask the question softly. He wanted to help, and despite everything, he still cared. He‛d tried to deny it, but as the days had passed, he‛d come to realize that it was hopeless. He loved Elliot. They hadn‛t really spoken in more than a month, but it hadn‛t changed how he felt. Elliot was leaving him alone. At first, it had been a relief, but now, after so much silence, it was annoying.

‟Nah.‟ Elliot didn‛t look at him. ‟Cragen‛s just being pissy.‟

‟He‛s going to pissy you right back into a uniform,‟ Munch said. ‟You fighting with your wife again?‟

‟Nope.‟ Elliot got up and left his desk. Toby threw up his hands in frustration. He‛d tried. He cared what happened to Elliot, but apparently, Elliot didn‛t much care. When he didn‛t come back, Toby took a deep breath and went to find him. It didn‛t take long. The weights in the locker room were going up and down, and Elliot was beginning to sweat. Toby sat down to watch. He didn‛t say anything. He watched. Chris had lifted weights like a sex machine. Elliot didn‛t. He lifted. He grunted, and he cursed at himself once or twice.

Toby slowly began to see the difference in their musculatures. Chris had been leaner. Elliot was thicker in the middle - too many donuts. Toby tilted his head to the side.

‟Uh, Toby, you‛re drooling.‟ Elliot hit him with a towel.

‟Shit.‟ Toby wiped his face. He hadn‛t been, but yes, he had. ‟So, what the fuck is wrong with you? You gonna roll over and let Cragen boot you back to traffic?‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟Maybe I‛m tired of the death and mayhem.‟

‟Burned out, huh? I can see where that happens in this division.‟ Toby had heard that the average stay was two years, but he knew that Elliot had a dozen easily.

Elliot started working on his arms. ‟You should leave.‟

‟I‛m off work, but thanks.‟ Toby watched intently now. Yes, Chris had had more muscle. All that prison time had made it easy to bulk up, but Elliot looked pretty damn good too. Toby wiped his mouth again and laughed. ‟So transfer out.‟

‟You think it‛s funny?‟ Elliot put down the weight.

‟Nah. I was just drooling again.‟ Toby smiled at him. ‟Let‛s have dinner tonight.‟

Elliot stared. He looked away and then back, and then he slowly said, ‟You asking me out on a date?‟

‟I‛m saying, let‛s get pizza or something. I‛m tired of the quiet.‟ Toby was, but he hadn‛t realized it until now, and he had no trouble hearing the sarcasm. ‟Okay?‟

Elliot shook his head and went to shower. Toby wasn‛t sure if that was a yes or a no, so he stayed put. He did drool when Elliot came out in nothing but a towel. Elliot dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt. He looked very handsome. Toby followed him back out to the squadroom.

‟Are you thinking of going home, Detective Stabler?‟

‟Yeah. It‛s two for one at Manny‛s tonight.‟ Elliot pushed his chair under his desk.

Cragen lowered his head. ‟You walk out that door without doing your fives and you can keep on walking.‟

Elliot put his hands on his hips. ‟Give me a minute to think about it.‟

Toby groaned. He caught Elliot by the arm and pulled him around. ‟I‛ll help. Let‛s do them and then you can go out.‟

Elliot looked at Cragen and then back to Toby. ‟What the hell.‟

Cragen nodded and went back to his office. Toby sat on the edge of Elliot‛s desk. ‟Do you want to get fired?‟

‟Not sure I care.‟ Elliot looked longingly at the door. ‟It is two for one Friday.‟

Toby wouldn‛t know. He pulled out Elliot‛s chair. ‟Please don‛t screw up your life this way.‟

‟Too damn late,‟ Elliot muttered.

Toby pretended that he hadn‛t heard. He found a chair and sat down to help.

*********

Elliot was glad Toby didn‛t answer that. Toby didn‛t need any more of Elliot‛s special brand of bullshit in his life. Elliot started working. ‟Go on home. I can do this.‟

‟You can, but will you?‟

‟Maybe.‟ Elliot felt beat down, and he was the one who‛d done the beating. He found a toothpick to chew. ‟How‛s Lennon treating you?‟

‟He says I‛m doing better.‟ Toby rolled his eyes. ‟I‛ve learned to sit up and beg like a good bitch.‟

Elliot slapped his hand down hard on the desk. ‟Stop saying that!‟

Toby flinched. ‟He owns me. You know it,‟ he muttered.

Elliot chewed the toothpick half to death. ‟Damn it.‟ He didn‛t know what else to say. ‟Why the hell are you even talking to me?‟

Toby reached and took the toothpick away. ‟I‛ve missed you. Okay? Laugh if you want, but it‛s true.‟

Elliot licked his lips. They worked within thirty feet of each other, but they hadn‛t spoken about any thing other than work, Toby had wanted it that way, and Elliot couldn‛t blame him. ‟Toby, you asked me to leave you alone,‟ he said soft and low.

‟Yeah, but I didn‛t expect you to turn into a fucking vegetable!‟ Toby ran a hand through his short hair.

Elliot looked around the squadroom at the people that were left. This conversation was over. He‛d do his damn fives and then he was going to get a beer. He had a much greater understanding of his father now. That wasn‛t necessarily a good thing, but it was what he had.

‟Sorry,‟ Toby whispered.

‟Forget it.‟ Elliot filled out another form. He only had one more thing to say, ‟Don‛t flatter yourself that this is about you.‟

Toby gave out a grunt and looked over at him. Their eyes met, and it was Elliot that looked away first. He had other shit in his life. Damn it. He was not moping around. Toby‛s blue eyes mocked that.

‟I need a beer,‟ Elliot muttered.

‟You need to pull your head out of the beer bottle,‟ Toby said fiercely. ‟Unless you want to be a drunk like me.‟

Elliot threw his pen down and walked away before he started punching and cursing. He was not a damn drunk! Like his father! And his grandfather! His fist impacted with the soda machine and the pain felt good. He‛d lost everything. Everything! If he did crawl in a beer bottle, damn it, he‛d earned his way.

‟You want to talk about it, Elliot?‟

Elliot whipped around. He grabbed hold of his temper before he hit the doctor. ‟Huang, how are ya?‟

‟Better than you. Let‛s go talk.‟ Huang casually pointed back towards his office.

Elliot threw a look over his shoulder. Cragen had his hands on his hips. This wasn‛t optional. Huang smiled in that way of his that was irritating as hell.

‟Sure. Talk.‟

Huang didn‛t sit down at his desk. He leaned against the front of it. ‟I guess beating pop machines is better than people.‟

‟They complain less,‟ Elliot said lightly and grinned. He crossed his arms. ‟I got fives to do so let‛s make this quick.‟ He always shot off his mouth to psychiatrists. This time, he wasn‛t going to make that mistake.

‟Tell me why Cragen wants to fire you.‟

Elliot let that roll off his back. ‟He ain‛t got no sense of humor?‟

‟Try again.‟ Huang used a soft, soothing voice that Elliot hated when it was directed at him.

‟Doc, I screw up everything. This ain‛t no different.‟ Elliot chewed the inside of his lip. He had to say something, and those words seemed the safest.

‟I‛ve noticed that your speech patterns reflect your stress levels.‟ Huang stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‟What did you screw up lately?‟

Elliot was losing his grip on his mouth. ‟I pushed too hard, and I hurt someone, and I . . . just don‛t want to try any longer.‟

Huang tilted his head to the side and assessed him. Elliot always felt as if Huang could see through all the bullshit. ‟Elliot, if you want to transfer out of SVU, no one will blame you. The job is extremely difficult on a good day.‟

‟I would blame me,‟ Elliot said quietly. He sat down hard in a convenient chair.

Huang sat down next to him. ‟I know it‛s not just the job. Can you find a way to solve your problems that doesn‛t involve alcohol and making Cragen slam his door? That door isn‛t going to stand much more.‟

Elliot laughed softly. He knew he was supposed to, but it was funny. ‟I‛m not a drunk.‟

‟Not yet,‟ Huang said quietly. ‟Elliot, apologize to this person. Try to make it right, and if you can‛t then turn it loose. You can‛t be everything to everyone.‟

‟My dad didn‛t even try.‟ Elliot wanted the words back instantly.

‟Do you think that will work for you?‟ Huang saw too much, too easily. ‟You‛re not your father.‟

Elliot shifted in the seat nervously. He didn‛t want to be his father. He‛d never wanted to be his father. ‟I hated him.‟

Huang said nothing, but Elliot heard the unspoken words. Why would he want to be something that he hated? Shit. Huang got to his feet. ‟Do you think you can finish your fives tonight? If you can‛t, I‛ll speak to Cragen.‟

Elliot took a second and rubbed his face. ‟Gotta pay the piper.‟

Huang went to open the door. ‟This door is always open for you.‟

‟That‛s what worries me.‟ Elliot left fast before he blabbed any more of his secrets. Confidential didn‛t mean all that much in this job. Toby was at Elliot‛s desk, working. Elliot was ashamed right down to the soles of his shoes. He gently put his hand under Toby‛s arm and lifted.

Toby stood. His eyes asked more than a few questions.

‟Go home. I‛ll do this. It‛s my mess, and I‛ll fix it.‟ Elliot didn‛t turn loose of him. ‟Please.‟

‟But-‟

‟Please.‟ Elliot gave him a small push towards his own desk. Toby looked confused, but he took a step. Elliot made a shooing motion. He had to take control of his life again, and apologizing again to Toby was a first step. ‟I‛ll bring a pizza after I get finished.‟

Toby came back fast. ‟You promise?‟

‟My word.‟ Elliot found a pencil and sat down. He‛d do this and then he‛d talk to Toby, and then he‛d decide where he was taking his life from there. For once - for once - he was going to make decisions instead of working until it didn‛t matter any longer.

*********

Toby didn‛t rush home. He wanted to keep an eye on Elliot, and he had to finish the case he was working on for Novak. She‛d want it tonight. That took about thirty minutes, but he was satisfied with it when he was done. He walked it down to her office and put it on her desk.

‟Finished?‟

Toby turned and tried to put on a happy face. He‛d wanted to sneak in and out. ‟Yes. Have a good weekend.‟

Novak went around to her chair and sat down. She smiled, and he knew he was trapped. ‟You‛ve been doing excellent work for me. Thank you.‟

‟You‛re welcome.‟ Toby didn‛t feel a glow from the praise. He had a feeling she was about ready to bend him over. ‟Anything to take back?‟

‟No, but I have a case that involves Oswald. Can you meet with me on Monday concerning it?‟ Novak had her pen ready to write in their appointment.

Toby recited the Tao of Munch silently. ‟Clear it with my parole officer first.‟

Her mouth dropped open slightly. ‟I‛m not sure we have to involve him.‟

‟Counselor, the last time I helped you out, I was beaten and put in lockup for three days. Speak with Craig Lennon or forget it.‟ Toby spoke firmly. ‟Are we clear?‟

Novak slowly nodded. ‟I‛ll speak with him and get back with you.‟

‟Thank you.‟ Toby left before she could hand him another case. She enjoyed working him for minimum wage a little too much. The lawyer part of his brain understood it perfectly and grinned. The ex-con snarled about it. He laughed softly at his insanity and went to to clear his desk. His apartment sounded good. Elliot was working at his desk, and Toby didn‛t reach out as he went past, but he wanted to grab him and hang on.

Toby put on his coat and stopped. ‟Late?‟

‟Very.‟ Elliot didn‛t look up or smile or give him any encouragement.

Toby went home, clutching his meager promise. The walk seemed to clear his head of the cobwebs that had settled in over the last month or two. He had pushed Elliot out firmly and crawled in a hole to hide. What had changed? Toby stopped, leaned against a building, watched the cars go by, and thought about it. The difference was that he wasn‛t so damn scared now. He felt . . . safer. It didn‛t make much sense, but he did. And Elliot needed him. Elliot was right on the verge of doing something stupid, and Toby couldn‛t turn away from him.

Chris fell again, and Toby reached out desperately but grabbed only air. This time, things were going to be different. He wasn‛t going to lose Elliot.

*********

Elliot put the last of his fives on Cragen‛s desk and looked at his watch. Four a.m. He stretched and yawned. Some sleep sounded good. He went to shut his computer off.

‟Finished?‟ Cragen asked as he came through with what had to be his hundredth cup of coffee for the day.

‟Yes.‟ Elliot bit his lower lip. He was going to have to grovel. ‟Sorry I‛ve been such a pain in your ass.‟

Cragen smiled a tiny bit. ‟It comes with my job. Take the weekend off. Get your head on straight and get back at it on Monday, okay?‟

Elliot nearly protested, but he was tired of this place. ‟Thanks.‟

‟Go home.‟ Cragen left him alone in a darkened squadroom. Elliot stretched again, got his coat, and left without looking back. He might come back on Monday or he might not. The drive was short, the streets deserted, and he went inside the quiet building. Everyone was asleep, and he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, unsure of what to do.

‟Are you coming up?‟

Elliot blinked in surprise when Toby appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in sweats and a T-shirt, and he looked rumpled. Elliot wanted to hold him. ‟Why aren‛t you asleep?‟

‟I slept a little.‟ Toby stretched.

‟I didn‛t bring pizza.‟ Elliot put his foot on the bottom step. He wanted to go up.

‟I‛ll send you out to Starbucks in an hour.‟ Toby grinned.

Elliot waited. He wasn‛t sure exactly what he was waiting for, but it seemed important. Looking up at Toby, something clicked into place. There was a choice here and he was going to do what he wanted. Not what his father‛s dead voice inside him said was right.

‟I‛m sorry I pushed you so hard.‟

Toby came halfway down the stairs. ‟I‛m sorry that I freaked out on you. I needed some time.‟

Elliot knew that now, and he went up halfway. ‟I was too angry. I have this temper, and it‛s a wonder that I don‛t kill more people than I do.‟

Toby smiled. ‟You and me both. Technically, I‛m violating my curfew by standing out here.‟

‟I need some sleep. My eyes are permanently crossed.‟ Elliot yawned again. His apology had been accepted, and his relief made his spine relax. He‛d be asleep soon.

Toby nodded. ‟Can I borrow your couch?‟

Elliot shook his head. ‟No. I‛ll borrow yours.‟ That next step was a tough one, but he made it, and he wasn‛t going to waste a minute regretting it.

*********

Toby didn‛t make coffee. He sat down on the couch and waited to see what Elliot would do and say. Elliot dropped his coat in a chair, tugged his shirt from his jeans, and pushed off his shoes. Toby made sure not to laugh in surprise when Elliot put his head in Toby‛s lap. ‟Your turn?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Elliot‛s eyes were already shut. He fell asleep faster than Toby would have believed. Chris would toss and turn for hours, staring out the glass. Elliot slept like a man who didn‛t expect to sleep again soon. Toby wanted to stroke him like a housecat, but settled for resting his arm across Elliot‛s chest. The late night slowly turned into morning, and Toby dozed.

When Elliot sat up a little and pressed his side into Toby‛s chest, Toby gave a grunt. ‟You‛re crushing me.‟

Elliot laughed, and Toby kissed him gently on the forehead.

‟I really need a pillow.‟

Toby laughed and tried to push him on the floor. It didn‛t work very well. Elliot outweighed him and didn‛t seem inclined to move. Toby put his mouth near Elliot‛s ear. ‟I gotta piss.‟

Elliot rolled off onto the floor. Toby stepped over him and went to the bathroom. Elliot was waiting his turn when Toby came out. Now it was time for some coffee, and Toby started a pot. He had no idea what it meant that Elliot had slept on the couch, and he didn‛t want to analyze it to closely.

‟Angus bringing the kids today?‟ Elliot asked as he went back to the couch.

‟He did last week.‟ Toby smiled at the memory. ‟We agreed on twice a month.‟

‟It‛s good you‛re not fighting over it.‟ Elliot stretched out. He relaxed bonelessly. Toby had never seen Chris do that. In prison, it wasn‛t smart, and Chris had learned early how to be smart.

Toby turned his computer on and listened to the coffee percolate. ‟How about your kids?‟

‟You and I are taking them out for pizza tonight.‟ Elliot didn‛t look at him, and his voice was firm. ‟Make sure I‛m awake by five.‟

Toby snorted, but by the time the coffee was done, Elliot was asleep. He didn‛t snore. The rhythm of his breathing was familiar though, and Toby smiled.

********

Elliot woke up again. He felt much better. ‟What time is it?‟

‟About three.‟ Toby came into sight. ‟I thought you were going to sleep all day.‟

Elliot smiled. ‟That‛s why it‛s called a day off.‟ He stretched and stood. ‟Coffee?‟

Toby nodded and got him a mug. Elliot sat back down to drink it. It was good. Toby picked up a book, sat in a chair across from him, and tucked his feet under him like a small boy. ‟You don‛t snore.‟

‟My wife does.‟ Elliot laughed. He‛d loved teasing her about it. ‟Have you met Kathy?‟

‟No.‟ Toby kept his nose in the book. ‟If she‛s anything like Benson, I don‛t want to.‟

‟Kathy is nothing like Olivia, except that they both like to yell at me.‟ Elliot drank some more coffee. ‟Did you think that Olivia and I . . . ?‟

Toby shrugged. ‟I thought maybe you gave it a try. She‛s gorgeous, opinionated and strong - your kind of woman.‟

Elliot thought about all of that while he took a couple of more drinks. ‟I care about her very much. We‛ve been partners a long time, but she‛s not interested.‟

Toby nodded. Elliot was slightly uncomfortable that Toby knew him so well. Toby suddenly looked up. ‟Did you know that people sell books for almost nothing on the internet? I got this one for eleven cents.‟

‟Plus shipping and handling.‟ Elliot smiled. He didn‛t mind changing the subject. ‟You like to read.‟

‟I was a lawyer. It‛s bread and butter. Of course, nearly everything is on the internet now. No one has to invest in law libraries any longer.‟ Toby seemed to disapprove of that. ‟It does make it easy to do research for Novak though.‟

Elliot emptied his first mug and went for a refill. One more and he was going downstairs to take a shower. ‟You like doing that for her?‟

‟Usually. Some of the cases are horrific.‟ Toby couldn‛t be squeamish, not after Oz.

‟Haven‛t you seen terrible things?‟ Elliot asked softly. He went back to his spot on the couch. It was nicer than his - not as lumpy.

Toby laughed, but it wasn‛t a funny sound. ‟Most of it was done to me, but somehow that makes it worse. I can almost feel their pain.‟

Elliot concentrated on his coffee for a moment. That made perfect sense. Seeing children beaten by their father nearly killed him - every time. ‟Two more months?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby put in his bookmark and set it down on a side table. ‟Novak wants me on an Oz case next week.‟

‟Absolutely not!‟ Elliot nearly jumped to his feet. He stayed sitting but he leaned forward. ‟No damn way.‟

Toby frowned, and it was sad. ‟I told her that she had to get with Lennon first. I‛m not going through that again.‟

‟Good.‟ Elliot was completely relieved. ‟Don‛t let her bully you. She‛s a lawyer.‟

Toby nodded, but didn‛t laugh. ‟Do you want to meet Holly and Harry?‟

Elliot raised his eyebrows. ‟Sure.‟

‟I‛d hoped so.‟ Toby went to his computer. ‟Morales helped me set this up. Well, I did it, but he made it ten times better.‟

Elliot got up and went to stand behind him. ‟He‛s good. He probably routed it through the starship Enterprise.‟

‟I think he‛s more into Voyager,‟ Toby said without a hint of a smile. He was serious. Elliot put his hands on Toby‛s shoulders. It felt good to share the touch. Toby looked up. ‟Ready?‟

Elliot nodded. ‟I think so.‟

*********

Toby shook his head stubbornly. ‟It‛s not a good idea.‟

‟I promised you pizza.‟ Elliot had the most stubborn look on his face that Toby had seen since Chris invented it. ‟Are you scared?‟

‟Of course I am! I‛m not stupid!‟ Toby wasn‛t going to do it. He‛d stay home. Elliot came over to him and pulled him into a hug. Toby could smell, feel, almost taste him. Gentle lips brushed across Toby‛s forehead and he groaned. ‟You‛re cheating!‟

‟Put on your shoes. Get your coat.‟ Elliot didn‛t turn him loose. Toby ran his hands back to Elliot‛s ass. Elliot jumped slightly. ‟Easy on that.‟

‟I can‛t believe God made two such perfect asses,‟ Toby grumbled. He pushed him back and went to get ready. Elliot laughed. Toby wondered why until he realized that he‛d insulted him. Elliot was no dummy.

‟Ready?‟

‟I‛m going to regret this. I just know it. Munch didn‛t say anything about going out for pizza.‟ Toby locked his door.

Elliot sighed dramatically. ‟Munch doesn‛t know everything.‟

‟I think he probably does, but some of it he won‛t tell us mere mortals.‟ Toby wasn‛t sure if he was joking or not. ‟Let‛s establish some ground rules. No holding hands. No kissing. No lust-filled looks. No-‟

‟Shut up!‟ Elliot gave Toby a mean look. Toby wasn‛t intimidated. He‛d seen it before. He laughed softly. It was going to be an interesting evening. The drive was about forty-five minutes, and Toby had a lump in his throat when they got there. Elliot came around to open Toby‛s door. ‟I can‛t believe you faced down Nazis.‟

‟Well, honestly, kids are tougher. Much. Nazis are pussies.‟ Toby didn‛t make a move to get out. The car was safer.

Elliot took him by the coat collar and pulled. ‟No cursing in front of the kids.‟

‟I knew there‛d be rules.‟ Toby got out, but he wasn‛t eager. A blonde woman that Toby thought was Kathy opened the door.

‟Hi, Elliot.‟ She pulled the door wide open. ‟Who‛s your friend?‟

Toby didn‛t have the courage to smile. She might be able to sense that he wanted to molest her ex-husband. Elliot pointed. ‟Kathy Stabler, Toby Beecher. And vice versa. Where‛s the kids?‟

‟Somewhere.‟ Kathy smiled. She was pretty, but nothing like Benson. ‟Nice to meet you. Do you work with Elliot?‟

Toby swallowed his spit. ‟I‛m Cragen‛s assistant. Elliot makes me do all his filing and make the coffee.‟

She laughed. ‟As long as he doesn‛t make it, you‛ll live.‟

Elliot grumbled something and went up the stairs. Toby gingerly sat down on a sofa that looked as if several kids used it for a trampoline. He could feel his heart pounding. Did he look gay tonight? He prayed that he didn‛t.

She sat down across from him. ‟How‛s Elliot doing?‟ she asked softly.

‟Uh, well,‟ Toby said, stalling for time, ‟Cragen keeps me busy. I don‛t pay much attention.‟

Kathy raised her eyebrows. ‟A loyal friend - very interesting. I won‛t put you on the spot again, but I‛ve been worried about him.‟

‟Me too.‟ Toby put his sweaty hands on his thighs. ‟Will they mind that I‛m here?‟

‟I doubt it. You‛re not as cool as Fin, but they‛re pretty easy going.‟ She smiled. ‟Are you married?‟

Toby was always ready for that question. ‟My wife passed away.‟

‟I‛m sorry for your loss.‟ Kathy didn‛t hesitate to say it. She might even have meant it. Elliot came back down the stairs with a pack of kids on his heels and saved Toby from further interrogation. Toby went through a round of introductions. Maureen was an adult, and she wanted to make that clear.

Kathy smiled at them all. ‟Go on out with Toby. Give me a minute with your dad.‟

Toby went out to the car. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about this.

********

‟Give me one good reason that I should let my kids go to dinner with an ex-con.‟

Elliot watched sparks fly from Kathy‛s eyes. ‟What are you talking about?‟ he asked cautiously.

‟Don‛t lie to me, Elliot. That‛s the Toby Beecher that you accused of killing Chris!‟ Kathy was angry now.

‟You‛re right. That‛s him.‟ Elliot had to stay calm. ‟He didn‛t do it. Chris knew us both. It‛s a connection. Toby also volunteers at St. Mark‛s and works at SVU. He‛s trying hard to stay straight, and I want to help him.‟

Kathy narrowed her eyes. ‟I heard all the things you called Toby, and Chris‛s faggot killer was the least of it!‟

‟Chris was not gay!‟ Elliot opened the door. He knew he sounded irrational, but he couldn‛t take back the insults said in anger. ‟We‛ll be back before midnight.‟

‟Elliot, don‛t betray my trust again.‟

Elliot heard the soft threat loud and clear. ‟They‛re my kids too.‟

‟Now you know it. It‛s about damn time.‟

Elliot walked away from her. She conveniently forgot all the parent-teacher conferences he‛s busted his hump to go to and all the overtime he‛d worked so they could have the latest clothes. The car seemed very full, and he laughed. Toby looked more than worried.

‟Are you guys teasing Toby?‟

Toby nodded frantically. ‟Drop me off somewhere, please.‟

‟Kids, leave the geeky lawyer alone.‟ Elliot laughed. He‛d made the right decision, and it didn‛t matter that Kathy would never know it.

*********

Toby watched the interplay between Elliot and his children. Elliot was a real father, not like Toby. There was an easy intimacy between them that spoke of time, love, soccer games, and late night science projects.

‟You‛re blessed in your children,‟ Toby said when they were on their way back to the apartment.

‟I am.‟ Elliot smiled. ‟Don‛t think it‛s all been peaches and cream though. Maureen is mad at me about half the time.‟

‟So I can form a club. I was worried about lack of membership.‟

Elliot casually reached and smacked the back of Toby‛s head. Toby laughed. He‛d expected that at some point. Elliot grinned. ‟I know this place you‛ll like.‟

Toby checked the time. He wasn‛t sure, but Elliot was driving, and he was going the opposite direction of home now. Toby shrugged. He was with a cop. ‟My curfew‛s at midnight.‟

‟We‛ll make it.‟ Elliot took an exit, cut over two blocks, and parked. Toby saw the sign and stared. He got out fast and didn‛t look back. Elliot caught up with him. ‟Now you‛re excited.‟

‟Well, yeah!‟ Toby breathed in the sweet smell of thousands of books. ‟This place is open late.‟

‟They‛re open all the time - largest bookstore in the world.‟

‟I can read the sign.‟ Toby got a basket. This place was like heaven. When his basket was full, he turned and bumped right into Elliot.

‟Good thing you didn‛t hit my nuts.‟ Elliot wrapped his arms around him. ‟Ready to go?‟

‟Do I have to?‟ Toby whined. He grinned at the instant expression of disgust that fell over Elliot‛s face.

Elliot snorted. ‟We should. I hope you brought your wallet.‟

‟You‛re not buying?‟ Toby pouted. He then laughed at Elliot‛s groan. ‟Thanks for bringing me here.‟

‟No shipping and handling.‟ Elliot hadn‛t turned him loose, and Toby liked it. Toby pulled away reluctantly and took his books to checkout. Elliot made him carry them all to the car, but he didn‛t complain.

********

Elliot took him and his stack of books home. ‟You really gonna read all those?‟

‟There might be a couple of duds, but they all looked good. I like autobiographies.‟ Toby was animated, happy, and Elliot had to smile. Elliot unlocked the outer door, and they both hesitated at the stairs. Toby had his hands full, and Elliot went upstairs with him.

‟The key‛s in my jeans.‟ Toby swung his hip at Elliot.

‟This seems familiar.‟ Elliot dug in the pocket without rooting around too much. He found the key and pulled it out. ‟Hang on.‟

Toby laughed, and Elliot pushed open the door.

‟Cutting it damn close, Beecher.‟

Elliot‛s hand reflexively went for his gun that he was damn glad he‛d left at work when he saw who it was. Toby gasped in surprise and dumped the books on the floor.

‟Elliot, have you lost your mind?‟ Lennon got up from the sofa. ‟What the hell were you two doing?‟

‟I took him to the bookstore.‟ Elliot was sure he should leave. He saw Toby‛s embarrassment and it made him want to hurt Lennon. ‟Later, Toby.‟

Toby nodded and started picking up the books. ‟Thanks for the ride.‟

Elliot walked out and down to his apartment. He shut the door a little harder than necessary. Lennon would pick tonight to do a spot check. Shit. Elliot wasn‛t tired. He‛d slept most of the day. He sat on his sofa and stared at the black screen of the TV. It was time to make a few decisions. He was tempted to go down to Manny‛s and think about everything with a beer in his hand, but he‛d done too much of that lately - the beer, not the thinking.

His job was difficult, but it was rewarding in its own way. He wanted to continue trying to make his section of Manhattan safer for children. It meant hard cases with emotional consequences, but it was what he was good at and turning away was impossible. And Toby? Elliot sighed softly. He was wrong to want him. Wrong to need him. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

‟El, the people I love, you‛ll look after them, right?‟ Chris looked worried.

Elliot nodded. ‟I promise.‟

Elliot bit his lip at the memory that had surfaced. Chris had said that right before he‛d gone to Lardner. Elliot had tried, but he‛d enlisted into the Marines soon after. Maybe he still owed Chris that promise. Chris had loved Toby. Elliot slicked his hand down his jeans. He should‛ve felt dirty, but he didn‛t because he and Chris had shared everything. They‛d been inside each other‛s skins, closer than brothers. Elliot understood the things Chris had done. He‛d come close to doing the same, but his father had forced him into the military. That had changed everything.

What did Toby think? Elliot knew he had to find out before this went any farther. If Toby felt it was disgusting, they‛d be friends, nothing else. Elliot groped for the remote and turned on some noise. It was possible that he was making a huge mistake with his life. Fear slipped through him, but damn it, he was going to try. It was what he wanted.

**********

Toby wished he didn‛t feel ashamed, but he did, and when he shut the door behind Lennon, he didn‛t consider going downstairs. It was asking too much of his pride. He shut everything off and took a book to bed.

The night fell away from him, and he awoke naturally. It wasn‛t often that he awoke without the stench of a nightmare in his nostrils, so he lay abed and stretched. Yesterday had been great, until Lennon showed up. That had thrown a wet towel on the night. Elliot might have stayed. It was barely possible.

Toby rubbed his eyes and yawned. Kathy had seemed nice enough but she‛d given him a look when they dropped the kids off that had said volumes. She knew who and what he was, and she was afraid for her children. Toby didn‛t have the strength to blame her. He‛d ducked his head and gone back to the car to wait.

Elliot had said nothing about it. But he wouldn‛t. He had been more relaxed yesterday than Toby had ever seen him. Toby got up and padded to the kitchen to start the coffee. He wasn‛t sure what it meant, but he was ready to know exactly what Elliot wanted. Good friends? Or more? Toby wanted whatever he could have.

Chris would understand. He would. He‛d loved Elliot. Toby believed that now. He knew it would feel strange at first, but he‛d get past it. They were very alike, but they were also very different. Toby felt guilty for all the weeks he‛d hidden from him. Of course, there were a few things they needed to discuss before this went any further.

A knock at the door pulled him out of it, and he answered it because he had sweats on. ‟Yeah?‟

‟Can I borrow a cup of coffee?‟

Toby laughed and pulled him inside. ‟You ran out of here last night.‟

‟Well, you didn‛t come downstairs when he left.‟

‟I wasn‛t sure if I should, and I was ashamed,‟ Toby said truthfully, even though it made him look bad.

Elliot went to watch the coffee drip through the filter into the pot. ‟He‛s lucky I didn‛t have my gun on my hip.‟

Toby got out two mugs. ‟That‛s very sweet of you but please don‛t shoot people in my apartment. Blood is hell to get out of carpet.‟

Elliot rolled his eyes and laughed. ‟As if you know.‟

‟Kathy knows who I am, doesn‛t she?‟ Toby dropped the question into the laughter and watched it fade away. The truth shone brightly in Elliot‛s eyes.

‟I had mentioned you after Chris had died. I‛d forgotten.‟ Elliot looked worried.

Toby drew the only conclusion possible. ‟She thinks I‛m a gay murderer. Geez, no wonder she grabbed her children and locked the door.‟ He went to sit on the sofa, pulling his feet up under him. What he needed was a shirt, but there was no rush. ‟And she thinks you‛ve lost your mind.‟

‟That sums it up pretty well.‟ Elliot threw up his hands. ‟How was I supposed to know that we‛d end up here?‟

Toby went to get a shirt. It gave him time to think. He flipped through his closet. Where was here? What did Elliot want? The obvious? He settled on a sweatshirt, it was a little cool, and went back out. Elliot handed him coffee, and he smiled.

‟Thanks.‟ Toby took a sip. They ended up sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. The TV wasn‛t on, and Toby asked the next question before he lost his nerve. ‟El, what do you want from me?‟

‟Whatever you‛re willing to give.‟ Elliot didn‛t say it loudly. ‟If you‛re grossed out by the thought of anything else, we can stay friends.‟

Toby drank some coffee. ‟I‛m not grossed out yet, but I haven‛t kissed you. Also, you need to be aware that I‛m quitting SVU when my time is up. I‛ll be gone.‟

‟You‛re moving out?‟ Elliot went right to the heart of it.

‟Well, no. I like this apartment, but I‛m not staying at SVU for you. No damn way.‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟It ain‛t for everyone. Too damn much misery.‟

Toby flashed back to his son, and Kathy Rockwell, and the swastika on his ass. All things that Elliot might have investigated under different circumstances. Misery was a good word for it. ‟I guess I‛m a wimp.‟

Elliot reached for him and put his hand on Toby‛s knee. ‟Don‛t take it that way. Munch has been through three partners in six years. You have to do what‛s right for you. Anyways, no one should have to do it for minimum!‟

‟I hear that.‟ Toby didn‛t even cash his checks. He signed the money over to St. Mark‛s, leaving the check in the poor box once a month. ‟Father Michael deserves more,‟ he said quietly.

Elliot said nothing for a minute. And then. ‟You give him the money?‟ The question had a touch of astonishment behind it.

Toby found Elliot‛s eyes and looked deep into them. It was time to tell the truth that might drive him right out the door.

‟Elliot, I‛m wealthy. Very. My inheritance from my father alone was more than enough to build that addition they want, several times over, and I have my own money. I was a successful lawyer before I went to prison. If you can‛t handle that, I don‛t blame you.‟

‟I know you‛re rich,‟ Elliot scoffed.

Toby raised his eyebrows. ‟I‛m not rich. I‛m wealthy. Old money. Lots of it. If you want me to buy us a house, I can. Or this building. Or even a block of buildings.‟

‟Shit, Toby. Shut up!‟ Elliot got up for more coffee. He was flustered. Toby had seen it before, and he wanted to make sure Elliot understood exactly what he was getting into by hanging out in this apartment.

‟I have a limo service, a cleaning lady, and my own tailor. If I can‛t solve a problem, I throw money at it.‟ Toby kept pounding away at his point. He wasn‛t going to pretend. This was too important to him.

‟You ain‛t got a plasma screen.‟ Elliot sat back down, but somewhat closer. ‟And I‛ve never spotted a Rolex.‟

‟I have two, a silver and a gold one, and wearing a Rolex to the precinct would be very stupid.‟ Toby looked at his TV. ‟I‛ve been doing research on the new TV technology. I‛m not sure what I want.‟

Elliot made a rude noise. ‟Eenie meenie minie mo.‟

‟Right. Elliot, I will always be wealthy - until the day I die. I like expensive clothes, good food, and yachts. It‛s part of who I am. Chris hated it. He hated that part of me.‟ Toby took a deep breath. He really, really was saying too much, but he couldn‛t seem to stop. ‟My glasses were a thousand dollars, just for the frames. If you can‛t deal with this, don‛t come over for the gourmet coffee.‟

Elliot was quiet. He chewed his lip. ‟I guess I didn‛t think about it.‟

‟I was sure that you hadn‛t.‟ Toby refused to be ashamed of his money. Not again. He drank his coffee. ‟This sweatshirt was two hundred dollars.‟

‟Enough!‟ Elliot made a slicing motion with his hand. ‟I get it. You‛re loaded. I‛m not. And I think you got ripped off on the shirt!‟

Toby laughed. He hadn‛t intended to, but it was funny. ‟Okay. I‛ll shut up. You think about it.‟ He went to the door and opened it. ‟I‛ll be at St. Mark‛s today, but my limo will be out front at three. If you‛re coming, wear a suit.‟

Elliot topped off his coffee. He had a glare in his eye. ‟I‛ll think about it.‟

‟Bye.‟ Toby shut the door right behind him. ‟Well, that‛s one way to find out how serious he is,‟ he said quietly. His coffee was cold, and he went to refill it.

*********  
Chapter Eight - It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. Matthew 19:24

Elliot skipped out on Mass. He would go on Wednesday night when his brain wasn‛t thinking constantly about Toby and his limo. Elliot changed his mind three times. Oz was one thing. Filthy rich was another. Stupid, but true. He guessed it was because one he could understand, but the other was unattainable and undesirable.

‟Damn it,‟ he said softly and went to find his best suit. Toby had spent a middle-class evening with him. The least he could do was go with him on a wealthy jaunt about town. It might convince Toby that Elliot was nothing but trash to be avoided, and that was better off done now than after they‛d rolled around in a bed.

Elliot shined his shoes. ‟Damn you, Chris.‟

********

Toby took a long shower after St. Mark‛s. The last thing he wanted to do was smell like chicken and noodles in the limo. He hadn‛t spotted Elliot there, but it was a big church. Toby didn‛t presume to go to Mass. Father Michael had invited him, but he found plenty to do down in the kitchen. He straightened his tie, put in his diamond cufflinks, and made sure he was perfect. The people in the places they were going expected it.

Elliot would go. Toby didn‛t doubt it, and he was determined to show him the rich side. Elliot had seen it, but not in relation to him. If Elliot hated it, Toby wanted to know now.

Toby slipped the chauffeur a hundred. ‟Wait for Mr. Stabler and then right to Tiffany‛s.‟

‟Yes, sir.‟

Toby slid across the seat, relaxing back into the leather. He put the TV on the game and made sure the mini-frig was stocked. It was. He had every confidence that Elliot would be along shortly. Elliot was as curious as a cat, and he‛d want to know what Toby had in mind for tonight.

‟Did you chill the champagne?‟ Elliot settled into the seat across from him.

‟I didn‛t order any.‟ Toby pulled a beer from the fridge and handed it to him. ‟You look nice.‟

Elliot twisted the beer open. ‟I‛m a cheap date.‟

Toby heard the aggression and rolled with it. ‟I‛ve had worse.‟ He crossed his legs and put his hand on his knee. It made his Rolex flash under the lights. Elliot‛s eyes went right there. Toby kept a small smile on his face. ‟I‛m surprised that you have the day off.‟

‟Cragen told me not to come in until Monday. I think he‛s sick of me.‟

‟Understandable.‟ Toby helped himself to some caviar from the hor d‛oeuvres tray that he‛d ordered. It was excellent. ‟I‛d never really heard him curse until last week.‟

‟It‛s a talent of mine.‟ Elliot hesitated and then tried the caviar. ‟For his birthday, I‛m getting him a heavier door.‟

Toby laughed. He let his eyes wander over Elliot - it was all good. ‟I‛ve wanted to thank you for all you‛ve done for me. The support when I was in lockup. The pizza you delivered, and, um, just everything, but mainly, not killing me.‟

Elliot raised one eyebrow. ‟What about all the stuff I did that pissed you off?‟

‟I‛m glossing over that right now.‟ Toby waved his hand dismissively. The limo stopped. ‟Ready?‟

‟No, but I‛m going to give it a try.‟

‟I‛m glad to hear that.‟ Toby waited for his driver, went around to the sidewalk, and smiled as Elliot got out. Elliot stopped. He frowned. Toby opened the door to Tiffany‛s. ‟Don‛t chicken out now.‟

Elliot went past him. Toby grinned. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he wasted no time. Elliot shook his head once.

‟It‛s perfect, and you will accept it.‟ Toby glared. ‟I owe you.‟

‟You don‛t owe me this!‟ Elliot‛s eyes darted about as if he were searching for an escape route. Toby pulled a wad of cash out of his trousers and paid for it. Elliot groaned softly, but that was the end of it.

Toby pointed. ‟I bought Holly‛s birthday present here. She said she liked them. I hope so.‟

Elliot went to look. ‟Kathleen would fall over dead.‟

‟I‛ll keep that in mind for the future.‟ Toby had the salesman put the tie tack on Elliot‛s tie. ‟Gold suits you.‟

Elliot was fighting a blush. ‟I guess tiny handcuffs are better than diamonds.‟

‟I spotted them and immediately thought of you.‟ Toby smiled. He was glad he‛d waited. ‟I considered getting Munch one also, but I think he‛d kill me.‟

‟He would. He isn‛t fond of the trappings of wealth.‟

‟And yet, his suits are impeccable.‟ Toby had noticed. ‟I‛m going to make a large donation to his shul in his name. It‛s going to drive him nuts until he figures out who did it.‟

‟That‛s almost cruel. I like it.‟ Elliot smiled. ‟Let‛s get out of here.‟

Toby wandered over to the diamond earrings. ‟Not yet.‟ He pointed. The salesman got them out fast. ‟These are nice.‟

‟For me?‟ Elliot fluttered his eyelashes.

‟You wish.‟ Toby paid cash again. He wanted to kiss those eyes when they drifted shut at night. ‟Wrap them for me, please. Something gold.‟

The salesman hurried away. Elliot raised his eyebrows. ‟What are you doing?‟

‟Having some fun. I haven‛t had any in ages.‟ Toby smiled at the disapproving expression on Elliot‛s face. ‟Don‛t you ever have fun with money? Buy something that you know you shouldn‛t?‟

Elliot didn‛t look at him. ‟Not in a long time.‟

‟Me too.‟ Toby put his hand on Elliot‛s arm. ‟Pick out something for Kathy.‟

Elliot‛s jaw clenched. ‟She‛ll think I want her back!‟

Toby saw that Elliot‛s pride could only be pushed so far. ‟She might.‟ He kept looking even though he knew he was pushing his luck. ‟Does she like necklaces or bracelets?‟

‟Rings. The woman is crack addicted to rings.‟

‟Well, now I see your point. A ring would send quite a message.‟ Toby went further down. He wasn‛t ready to give up. ‟The trick is to stay away from gold.‟

Elliot came over to him, very close. ‟I won‛t lie and say I bought it for her.‟

Toby believed that, but he had a solution. ‟In Oz, men often exchanged services for goods.‟ He caught the eye of a saleswoman and motioned her over. ‟What have you got?‟

Elliot frowned. ‟I can‛t think of a thing.‟

‟Take me to St. Mark‛s on Sundays and help in the kitchen.‟ Toby didn‛t smile. If he were a bad man, he‛d demand sex, but he didn‛t want a punch in the nose. There was also something else. ‟And tell Lennon that if he lets me go to Connecticut on Saturdays that you‛ll make sure I‛m home by curfew.‟

Elliot put his hands on his hips, looked at the rings, and narrowed his eyes. ‟I pick it.‟

‟Deal.‟ Toby wasn‛t worried about that. Tiffany‛s didn‛t have cheap jewelry. He watched Elliot think and search. Elliot didn‛t rush. Toby couldn‛t decide if he liked him better in a suit or a wife-beater. It was a tough choice.

‟That one.‟ Elliot tapped Toby‛s hand. ‟What do you think?‟

‟I like it. It‛s rich looking without being obnoxious.‟ Toby smiled now. ‟Do you want it wrapped?‟

‟No. That would seem strange.‟ Elliot bit his lip as Toby paid for it. ‟I should‛ve brought my gun.‟

Toby tucked his money away. ‟New York is safer than it‛s ever been.‟ He took his bag from the salesman and thanked him. Elliot got his also. Toby could tell that Elliot was more than ready to leave, so they did.

‟Hey El, it‛s just a store.‟

‟Right.‟ Elliot looked down at the bag in his hands. ‟I feel guilty.‟

Toby didn‛t. ‟Think of it as helping out the economy. If we don‛t spend money, those people won‛t have jobs.‟

The chauffeur opened the door for them. Toby got in first but he shamelessly moved close to Elliot when the door shut. Elliot gave him an odd look. ‟What?‟

Toby wanted to touch him, intimately. He slowly reached and was glad when Elliot didn‛t pull away. Elliot‛s lips were firm, and Toby felt his groin tighten. Elliot caught Toby‛s hand.

‟Not in here.‟ Elliot didn‛t sound sure.

Toby laughed softly. ‟You‛re wavering.‟ He checked the time and hit the intercom. ‟Raphael, cruise Times Square please.‟ He didn‛t wait for an answer. ‟This is nice.‟

Elliot adjusted his tie. ‟Is this who you are?‟

Toby considered his answer carefully. ‟Before I went to prison, I was one thing. I was even afraid of the other things inside me. Now, well, I know that inside every man is the murderer, the lover, and the doting father.‟

‟Not all of us are murderers,‟ Elliot said forcefully.

‟You wouldn‛t murder the man who raped your daughter?‟ Toby knew the answer so he pressed on, ‟We‛re all many different men. One of mine happens to be wealthy. If it‛ll make you feel more comfortable, I can curse and try to hurt you.‟

Elliot laughed. It was unexpected. ‟But who are you really? I‛m a cop. All the good and the bad and the blood that comes with that is what I am.‟

Toby considered it. ‟I think you‛ve put yourself in a box and sometimes you chafe your shoulders trying to wiggle out.‟

‟That doesn‛t answer the question.‟ Elliot breathed on Toby‛s ear. Toby shivered. He distracted himself with food and the view. The truth was that he didn‛t know. He was like marbles in a jar, and where he‛d thought that he‛d put it all together, he hadn‛t. Lately, he‛d felt pretty good about things, and that always worried him.

‟I‛m a man. Nothing else.‟ Toby would have to live with that. He pointed. ‟Do you want to stop?‟

‟Nah.‟ Elliot abruptly switched seats, and they were facing each other again. ‟Where are we going?‟

Toby smiled. ‟Don‛t worry. You‛re not cuffed in the trunk.‟

‟I didn‛t put you in the trunk.‟ Elliot ate some more. He looked relaxed, calm, but there was an edge to him. Toby liked that edge. He wanted to balance on it and then cast himself over. Elliot tugged his tie again.

‟Don‛t muss yourself.‟ Toby frowned. He had seen enough. It was time for dinner. ‟Raphael, go to our final destination.‟ He turned off the intercom.

‟You‛re trying to make me sweat.‟ Elliot opened the fridge and got out another beer. ‟Unless you have a gun pointed at my head, it won‛t work.‟

Toby nodded and found himself a bottled water. ‟I know, but allow me to have a little fun. Lennon has had me in a kennel for months.‟

‟How‛d you get loose tonight?‟ Elliot was looking intently out the window, but it was getting dark.

‟I called him and told him what I was doing in advance. He knows I‛ll be home by midnight.‟ Toby hadn‛t liked it, but he was living by Munch‛s rules. Lennon had made a rude remark or two and hung up. Toby hadn‛t told him that Elliot was going. ‟Tomorrow, I‛ll go back to life on a leash.‟

‟It has to be better than Oz.‟

‟It is. I‛m not complaining more than any man would.‟ Toby hoped he didn‛t whine around like a pussy. ‟Tell me about your future. What are your plans?‟

Elliot furrowed his brow. ‟Work.‟

Toby moved next to him and straightened his tie. ‟You can‛t work forever. Another wife? A home in the Hamptons? California dreaming?‟

‟What about you?‟

Toby laughed. ‟Always the cop. Pushing the questions back. I have a plan. After parole, I‛ll go home to my kids. When Harry goes to college, I‛m going to get a place of my own somewhere sunny.‟

‟For some reason, I doubt all that. Oh, you might go home, but you‛ll find a homeless center to volunteer at and then you‛ll open your own, and twenty years from now, you‛ll be running a food bank.‟ Elliot smiled, but it was a small one. ‟No sunshine in your future. It‛s too bright and you‛re accustomed to the dark places now.‟

Toby felt his eyes widen and his heart clench. He whispered, ‟You know me so well. How did that happen?‟

‟I pay attention.‟

The limo stopped, and Raphael pulled open the door. Toby got out and started walking. Elliot was right behind him, but they didn‛t speak. Toby walked out to the farthest point of the pier and made the call. ‟Now, please.‟

Elliot turned a full circle. ‟I have to admit; I was hoping for dinner.‟

Toby stepped right into Elliot‛s space and tapped him on the forehead. ‟Can you get past the fact that I was Chris‛s lover and I‛m wealthy? Two damn big obstacles.‟

‟I‛m glad he had someone in that hell hole, and I ain‛t sure about the rich part.‟ Elliot looked around again. ‟This is it?‟

Toby laughed from nervousness. ‟No.‟ He snapped open his cell phone and dialed. ‟Blow the horn.‟

Elliot actually flinched when the sound of the horn rang out over the water. ‟That boat is a little close.‟

‟It‛s going to get closer.‟ Toby put his phone away. ‟Elliot, I‛d like you to meet the Lady Guinevere.‟

Elliot didn‛t reply. He took two steps back as she pulled up alongside the pier. The plank came down, and the captain appeard up top.

‟Mr. Beecher! Good to see you! Welcome aboard!‟

Toby went up and shook the captain‛s hand. ‟She looks to be in good shape. Do you get down to these waters very often?‟

‟No. Today was a real treat for us.‟ The captain grinned. ‟Is your friend coming?‟

Toby turned back to the rail. ‟Elliot! It‛s now or never.‟

Elliot looked at the limo and then came up the plank. He shook the captain‛s hand, and Toby introduced them. That done, the captain gave orders. Toby moved to stand at the prow of the yacht, and Elliot went with him.

‟When Chris and I were kids, we would pray that a ship would come and get us. We could be cabin boys and live the good life on the open sea.‟ Elliot‛s hands were squeezing the rail. ‟I guess we should‛ve given you a call.‟

Toby put his hand on Elliot‛s. ‟I used to dream that I could play in fire hydrants and stick ball like I saw on TV.‟

‟Two different worlds.‟ Elliot sighed. ‟She‛s a beautiful ship.‟

‟Thank you.‟ Toby edged closer. ‟Would you like a tour?‟

‟Let‛s enjoy the view.‟

Toby smiled.

*********

Elliot had wondered at first if Toby was rubbing Elliot‛s nose in the fact that he was damn wealthy. The view from the yacht was beautiful, and Elliot watched Toby as much as the skyline. Toby was a wealthy man. It came as easy as breathing to him, but there was more here. He was generous and willing to give back.

‟I really have to work at St. Mark‛s?‟ Elliot asked after they settled on the upper deck. Dinner was in thirty minutes.

‟Agnes had to quit. We‛re short-handed. But you do what you want.‟ Toby looked relaxed.

Elliot wanted to grumble, but a deal was a deal, and he thought that Toby knew it. ‟Well, you have convinced me that you‛re wealthy.‟

‟And you want to puke over the side?‟ Toby had ordered a club soda with a twist, and he took a sip. ‟Take my advice and vomit downwind.‟

Elliot laughed. ‟I have to admit, it‛s not what I look for in a friend.‟

‟Or anything else,‟ Toby muttered. He was stretched out on a deck chair. ‟The city is gorgeous.‟

Elliot agreed. New York was the best city on the planet. He went to the rail, watching the waves crash against them and the lights on the bridges. This was a world away from what he knew, but he was willing to visit from time to time if Toby asked. His life was as a cop, but he wasn‛t against the occasional vacation.

‟Toby, which do you prefer? The yacht or the homeless shelter?‟ Elliot tilted his head, intensely curious.

Toby took another drink. ‟Life for me isn‛t that simple. I like my yacht. I haven‛t seen her in years, but I also enjoy helping people. With great wealth comes great responsibility.‟

Elliot heard the honesty in that answer. He was one thing, but Toby was like the windows at St. Mark‛s - a mix of colors and shapes that made a beautiful picture. Elliot almost laughed at his own absurdity. He turned from the rail. ‟Do you still love me?‟

Toby flinched as if he‛d been shot. The color drained from his face and he put his drink down with a shaking hand. ‟Don‛t hurt me like that, Elliot.‟

Elliot hadn‛t intended to hurt him. ‟Come here.‟

Toby didn‛t get up immediately. He looked as if he might jump ship, but slowly he moved to him. Elliot wrapped his arms around him, and Toby leaned into it.

‟You weren‛t supposed to know.‟

‟Sorry. You yelled the words at me. Made it hard to forget.‟ Elliot wasn‛t ready to kiss him, but he wanted to hold him until morning. ‟When we met, after our conversation on the pier, I became determined to understand why Chris loved you. I wanted to know what he saw in you.‟

‟What he saw that you couldn‛t.‟ Toby frowned.

Elliot squeezed him a little. ‟Yes. It didn‛t make any sense.‟ He felt the wind on his face, saw the lights of the city, and heard the water, but all he knew was the man he was holding. ‟It does now.‟

Toby gave out a soft grunt. ‟He‛s dead because I couldn‛t love him enough.‟

‟That was Chris. What he got was never enough.‟ Elliot suddenly wanted to do something insane. He dug in Toby‛s pocket and pulled out the cash. Toby didn‛t do anything but look at him. Elliot flipped it with his thumb. ‟Can I throw it overboard?‟

Toby laughed. ‟That the crew‛s tip, but I‛m sure they won‛t mind.‟

Elliot was slightly disappointed. He settled for peeling off a hundred. He put the rest back. ‟It‛s just money.‟

‟Throw it.‟ Toby smiled. Elliot almost did, but his upbringing wouldn‛t allow it. He sighed. Toby grabbed it and threw it up in the air. It fluttered up and flew away in the wind. He giggled. Elliot wasn‛t diving in after it. He laughed. It was only money.

*********

Toby paused at the bottom of the steps. ‟You have Kathy‛s present?‟

‟Of course!‟ Elliot smiled. ‟The lobster was good.‟

‟It was. I didn‛t expect you to eat two!‟ Toby smiled back at him, helplessly caught up.

‟The Statue of Liberty was a sight.‟ Elliot dug out his keys. ‟Would you like a ride to work tomorrow?‟

Toby reached out his hand, wanting a touch. ‟Yes. Thank you.‟

Elliot took Toby‛s hand but didn‛t shake it. ‟I‛ll come up for coffee in the morning.‟

‟Good.‟ Toby turned him loose and went upstairs. It wasn‛t time for them to do anything more. Elliot wasn‛t ready. Toby understood, and he wasn‛t in any rush. Tonight had been wonderful, and he just wanted to enjoy it - wallow in the memories. He fell asleep smiling and didn‛t mind facing the day.

By the time the coffee pot was full, Elliot was at the door. Toby let him in with a smile. They didn‛t talk. Toby made sure he had the earrings in his pocket before they left.

‟Can you do this?‟ Toby asked him softly as he parked the car.

Elliot shut off the engine. ‟Yes. You?‟

Toby nodded. He could. They went in together before going to their separate desks. Cragen had seen them come in, but he said nothing. Toby went to work. He hoped this week went quietly. No Oz. Ninety more days. He could do it. With a blink, he realized that he‛d resolved the reason that had made him desperate to leave. This job wasn‛t that bad.

‟Here‛s a pile for the mail,‟ Cragen said. ‟I didn‛t lick them.‟

Toby made a face. ‟You‛re trying to make me quit, aren‛t you?‟

Cragen smiled. ‟Is it that easy?‟

‟Not today.‟ Toby liked his boss. ‟What will you do for an assistant when I‛m gone?‟

‟Did you see the place before?‟ Cragen shrugged. He looked around the squadroom. ‟Where‛s Munch?‟

‟Early lunch.‟ Toby licked the envelopes, put stamps on the ones that needed it, and loaded his basket for the mailroom. He came back with the basket that they gave him and passed out the mail. No one ever seemed to notice him. He did his job and went back to his desk.

Long after lunch, Elliot and Benson came back from an interview. They were discussing the case animately, and Toby watched him. Elliot always had an opinion, a theory, and Benson rarely agreed with it.

‟Okay, ask Toby!‟ Elliot threw up his hands.

Benson snorted. ‟I‛ll ask a real lawyer.‟ She surveyed the contents of her desk.

Toby eased over to Elliot‛s desk. ‟I‛m not real?‟ he whispered.

Elliot grinned. ‟She knows I‛m right.‟ He fiddled with a pencil. ‟Pizza tonight?‟

‟I have a meeting.‟ Toby wasn‛t going to skip out for Elliot, even though he wanted to do just that. ‟You have a message from Novak. Don‛t forget to call her.‟

‟What the hell?‟ Benson‛s voice rang out. Toby automatically cringed.

Elliot laughed. ‟Someone put a mouse on your desk, Liv?‟

She thumped down into her chair. ‟Beecher! Did you deliver the mail?‟

Toby sidled over to her desk. ‟Yeah,‟ he mumbled. ‟I didn‛t mess with it.‟ He fielded a short glare from her and slunk away to his desk. Inside, he was laughing his head off. For the next hour, he watched her interrogate every hapless soul that went past her desk. Elliot played it just right, but he had to be laughing. Toby finally went to the locker room, leaned against the wall, and let it out.

‟She can‛t decide whether to keep them or not.‟ Elliot came through the door. He leaned into his hand next to Toby and said, ‟You‛re damn evil.‟

Toby laughed. He couldn‛t form words. Finally, his cheeks aching, he said, ‟I told you it‛d be fun.‟

Elliot laughed, going to sit on the bench. ‟You better hide for the rest of the week. She was muttering about investigating this further.‟

Toby had covered his tracks. He wasn‛t worried. ‟I have to go clean the lounge.‟ He giggled. ‟Did I thank you for the evening?‟

‟No. And I didn‛t get a kiss either.‟ Elliot started laughing again. ‟You owe me.‟

Toby blushed and went back to work. He couldn‛t remember the last time he‛d been this happy. It was bound to be a sign of bad things to come.

*********  
Chapter Nine - It is more blessed to give than to receive. 2 Timothy 4:7

Elliot wanted to insist that Toby spend the evening with him, but that would be a mistake. For a guy with no life, Toby was busy every night of the week. Here it was Friday, and Elliot hadn‛t seen him except at work. Of course, Toby could be avoiding him, but Elliot didn‛t think so. He chewed his straw, thought about this weekend, and remembered his debt. He had to work in the soup kitchen. Shit. Well, he didn‛t really mind, but it was one more thing to do.

‟Novak wants you on line two, Elliot.‟

Elliot glanced back at Toby. And there was the second half of his debt. He hadn‛t done a damn thing about that yet. ‟Stabler.‟

‟Elliot, I spoke to Craig Lennon about taking Tobias Beecher with me to Oz on Monday. He‛s against it.‟ Novak paused. ‟Can you get him to change his mind? I know you two are friends.‟

Elliot leaned back in his chair. ‟I agree with him. Beecher doesn‛t need to be going out to Oz.‟

‟His help is invaluable.‟

‟He‛s on parole. It‛s damn easy to break. If Lennon says no, then it‛s no.‟ Elliot could feel Toby‛s eye upon him. ‟Consult with him here before you go.‟

Novak sighed. ‟Fine. I‛ll do it that way. He‛s a lawyer. He‛s not going to re-offend.‟

Elliot hoped not. ‟Lennon‛s the boss. Don‛t get Beecher sideways with him.‟

‟Send him to my office.‟ Novak hung up, and Elliot called Lennon immediately.

Lennon sounded gruff. ‟Whaddaya want, Elliot?‟

‟Novak is pushing hard for Beecher.‟

‟Ain‛t gonna happen. If he caves, I‛ll send him back the hard way. We aren‛t doing this again!‟

Elliot shifted his eyes over to Toby, who looked worried. ‟I‛ll make sure he gets the message.‟

‟Make it very clear. Anything else?‟

Elliot hesitated. He had to phrase this just right. ‟If he keeps clean, will you consider letting him go home on Saturdays?‟

Lennon grumbled something, and Elliot could hear papers being turned. ‟How do I know he‛ll come back?‟

‟Oh, give me a break, Craig. Beecher‛s rich. If he wants to skip, he will, and the Bahamas won‛t be sending him back!‟ Elliot laughed even though he hoped that would never happen.

‟Shit.‟ Lennon paused. ‟Are you saying that you‛ll make sure he‛s home before curfew?‟

‟Yeah. I‛ll check on him and call you if he‛s late.‟ Elliot crossed his fingers. He wanted this for Toby and Toby‛s kids. ‟You can toss him in lockup if that happens.‟

‟Well, okay. Saturdays only. Now, are we done? I have work to do!‟

‟I‛ll tell him. Thanks.‟ Elliot hung up. He tucked his phone away and stood. Toby was intently staring at him, and Elliot pointed. ‟Locker room.‟

Toby nodded and went past him. Elliot filled Cragen in on Novak before going to talk with Toby.

********

Toby paced. He had heard some of the conversation, but not all. Some dickhead had wanted to talk about his fives. Toby rubbed his face and took a deep breath. He had to stay calm.

‟Okay, this is the deal.‟ Elliot straddled the bench. ‟Stop pacing!‟

Toby joined him on the bench. ‟Spill it.‟

‟First of all, Lennon says that if you let Novak bully you out to Oz, you might as well count on staying.‟ Elliot pushed his finger into Toby‛s chest. ‟Do not go.‟

‟I won‛t.‟ Toby swallowed hard. He wasn‛t going. No.

‟And you can go see your kids tomorrow.‟

Toby felt the world tilt under his feet. His heart raced and he wanted to cry. He laughed instead and hugged him - held him tight. ‟Thank you. Thank you so very much.‟

Elliot smiled. He whispered in Toby‛s ear, ‟And Novak wanted you in her office five minutes ago.‟

Toby got to his feet, pushed a kiss into Elliot‛s perfect lips, and exulted. ‟I‛m going, but am I seeing you tonight?‟

‟You aren‛t going to AA?‟

‟I went Wednesday.‟ Toby felt as if his face might crack from smiling. ‟I can‛t believe it.‟

‟Believe it.‟ Elliot got up and pushed him towards the door. ‟Go. She doesn‛t like to wait.‟

‟Tell Cragen.‟ Toby got moving. He wasn‛t sure his feet were touching the floor. Halfway to her office, he realized that he‛d kissed him. And Elliot hadn‛t punched him. Tonight, he‛d try for another one or two. Because he was thinking of Elliot‛s lips, he was slightly flustered when he got to Novak‛s office. He took a deep breath, tried to wipe the stupid smile off his face, and went inside. The next hour was a very long one. When she turned him loose, he practically ran back to the squadroom, but Elliot wasn‛t there.

Toby still had to clean the lounge, and he did a quick but thorough job. It was Friday, and he was leaving at five sharp. He went back downstairs and put the last of the files away. Tomorrow, he could go see his kids. The thought was intoxicating. He checked with Cragen one last time.

‟You need anything?‟ Toby prayed that Cragen didn‛t.

‟You‛re smiling.‟ Cragen looked up at him. ‟What happened?‟

Toby guessed that he didn‛t smile a lot on this job. ‟Lennon said I could go see my kids on Saturdays. I‛m happy.‟

Cragen nodded. ‟It just looked strange on your face.‟ He rummaged in his desk for something. ‟Oh, you can go home. I don‛t have anything for you.‟

‟Thank goodness.‟ Toby left before he had to explain himself. He was putting on his coat when Munch came up.

‟It was nice of you to buy Benson some earrings.‟

Toby frowned. ‟What?‟

‟Play innocent.‟ Munch laughed. ‟Do you want to date her?‟

Now Toby laughed. ‟Her? The Queen of Mean? Right.‟ He rolled his eyes. ‟I‛m going home.‟

Munch wasn‛t fooled, but he walked away. Toby put on his coat and beat it out the door. He wanted to skip home like a little girl, but he controlled himself and walked. Halfway there, he found his favorite spot to lean and watch the traffic go by. It had been a good day - a good week. He hadn‛t seen as much of Elliot as he‛d have liked, but he didn‛t want to be pushy. Also, Father Michael had asked him to help out on Wednesday, and that had been unexpected.

The weather had turned warmer, finally, and he breathed in the city air. Things were going his way, and it felt good. He‛d followed the Tao of Munch, and he‛d been rewarded. He laughed and headed for home.

*********

Elliot checked his watch for the fifth time.

‟Is there somewhere you wanted to be?‟ Benson asked.

‟Not here.‟ Elliot thought this week had gone better than any in months, but he was ready to go home. Ready to go find out what Toby was doing. It was embarrassing. He chewed his straw and filled out the paperwork.

‟Elliot, Olivia, I want you in early tomorrow on this case.‟ Cragen came over to their desk. ‟Okay?‟

They nodded simultaneously. ‟We‛ll take another run at the family,‟ Elliot said. ‟Anything else?‟

Benson laughed. ‟He‛s ready to go. Maybe he has a hot date.‟

Elliott shook his head. ‟I‛m at a stopping point.‟ He looked at Cragen. ‟Okay?‟

Cragen sighed. ‟Go home.‟

Elliot didn‛t argue. He cleared his desk, shut down his computer, and got moving. Guilt nagged at him, but he pushed it away. He‛d be back early, and they‛d clear this case before lunch. Tonight, he wanted to talk to Toby.

********

Toby pushed away from the computer with a happy sigh. It was all set up. He‛d go early. Angus had been relieved, even enthusiastic. Toby hoped he was ready to face his mother. He had no idea what he‛d say, but he was very afraid that he‛d cry. If tomorrow didn‛t go well, Angus might not let him come back. Toby rubbed his face. No cursing. No acting like an ex-con. He had to be normal. Damn. He needed a drink.

There was a knock on his door. It was Elliot. That was his trademark cop knock. Toby yelled, ‟Go away, ya stupid cop!‟

Elliot opened the door. ‟Excuse me?‟

Toby tried to look innocent. ‟Um, nothing. I thought it was someone else.‟

‟Who exactly?‟ Elliot shut the door and put his hands on his hips. He looked all cop tonight. He even had his badge on his belt, and that was definitely his gun on his hip. He‛d come right from work. Toby couldn‛t help but feel complimented. Elliot turned up the glare. ‟Well?‟

‟Some cop named Stabler that harasses me occasionally. Bad ass. Big gun. Likes to punch me in the face.‟ Toby tried not to smile, but didn‛t succeed very well. ‟Seen him?‟

Elliot rolled his eyes. ‟Let‛s go get burgers at Manny‛s. I‛ll put away my gun. Meet me downstairs.‟

Toby furrowed his brow. ‟That‛s a bar.‟

‟I‛ll hold your hand.‟ Elliot went back out the door. Toby wasn‛t sure. If Lennon was there, he might get angry. Toby looked down at his clothes and went to change. He put on ripped jeans, a blue wife-beater, and his leather coat. His glasses, he left on the side table. Grabbing his keys, he went downstairs to wait by the mailboxes.

‟Where‛s that rich guy? You look . . . scrawny and disreputable.‟ Elliot smiled. He was in jeans and a sweatshirt, but no jacket. ‟Really scrawny.‟

‟Thanks.‟ Toby stuck his hands in his pockets. He changed the subject back to what was eating at him. ‟It‛s a bar!‟

‟Don‛t worry.‟ Elliot looked him up and down. ‟Did you buy those torn?‟

Toby slipped his hand through his hair. He was more nervous about this than he‛d admit. ‟Got them at the goodwill when I was living at the halfway house. For some reason, I like them. Now, can we not discuss my wardrobe and focus on the fact that I‛m a drunk!‟

Elliot pulled him out the front door. ‟I‛ll be with you. You‛ll be fine. Won‛t you?‟

Toby groaned. ‟Lennon owns that bar!‟

‟Completely? I thought he was a silent partner.‟ Elliot frowned now.

‟I helped him purchase it. It‛s his.‟ Toby shook his head. ‟I‛m not screwing up right before I finally get to see my kids. No fucking way.‟

‟You have a point. Well, I‛m still hungry.‟

Toby rubbed his forehead in frustration. ‟Okay. Come on.‟

‟No caviar, okay?‟ Elliot fell into step beside him. ‟Did you notice that Olivia wore the earrings today?‟

‟Yep.‟ Toby grinned. Watching her worry and fuss had been fun, but he‛d known she‛d wear them. ‟Munch knows I did it. Whether he‛ll tell her is another thing entirely.‟ He stopped for the light at the corner. ‟Did you give Kathy her ring?‟

‟I will tomorrow when I see them.‟ Elliot smiled. ‟What time are you planning on coming home?‟

‟I‛ll leave around nine p.m. That‛ll give the driver plenty of time to get back.‟ The light changed, and they were walking again. ‟Thanks again. I‛m very nervous.‟

‟Don‛t curse and you‛ll be fine.‟ Elliot clapped him on the shoulder. ‟And I owed you.‟

Toby scooted closer and wanted to curl into him. ‟Still. Thanks. I should‛ve bought your girls something.‟

Elliot wrapped his hand around the back of Toby‛s neck and squeezed. ‟Don‛t even think it. I‛d have done it for nothing.‟

Toby liked the heavy hand on him. He was glad that Elliot felt that way, but a deal had made it easier for both of them. ‟Here, okay?‟

Elliot opened the door. ‟It better be good.‟

‟Just wait.‟ Toby liked this little deli tucked into the neighborhood. The cookies were the best. ‟Oh, and you‛re buying.‟

Elliot made a rude noise. ‟Cheap rich guy.‟

Toby grinned and ordered. When they were at the table eating, he made up his mind that he‛d waited long enough for a few answers. He reached across the table and tapped Elliot‛s hand. ‟What did you decide?‟

Elliot took his time answering. Toby felt as if his heart was skipping a beat while he waited. Finally, when Toby was about ready to smack him, Elliot said, ‟The money isn‛t a problem. Now, if you start acting like a rich snob, count on me walking away.‟

‟And Chris?‟ Toby didn‛t think he would ever act like a snob. Oz had beat it out of him, but it was good to know that Elliot wasn‛t intimidated by the caviar and lobster.

Elliot took a swig of his beer. ‟That‛s more your problem than mine.‟

Toby digested that. He thought he understood. ‟You and Chris shared everything. The thought of it doesn‛t bother you.‟

‟More or less right.‟ Elliot shrugged. ‟We were close. I think he‛d want me to be with you.‟

Toby had to explain how he felt about the situation. ‟You‛re not him. If he were alive, we wouldn‛t be having this conversation, but he‛s not.‟

Elliot raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and Toby had the uncomfortable feeling that he‛d insulted him. He hadn‛t meant to do it. Elliot wiped his mouth. ‟Who knows? We might.‟

Toby tried not to blush. Elliot was right. Chris had been a lifer, and Toby had never been faithful. He was afraid his grief and shame was all over his face. ‟I did love him. We hurt each other so much and so often, that I did things I‛m not proud of.‟

‟Good that you‛re not proud.‟ Elliot chewed the last of his sandwich. ‟Chris knew he was dragging you down. He told me in the letter. I think he was ashamed, and he said that you deserved better than him.‟

Toby swallowed those words, but they went down hard. He pushed his empty plate away. ‟Is that you?‟

‟I ain‛t gonna promise anything.‟ Elliot‛s blue eyes met Toby‛s without a flinch. ‟But I won‛t lie to you about what I‛m thinking.‟

Toby was glad to hear that. He hated lies with a passion, even if he told them occasionally. ‟Fair enough. You ready to go?‟

Elliot nodded, and they tossed their trash. He went back up to the counter and Toby watched him buy a dozen cookies. ‟They‛re for the kids tomorrow.‟

‟Yeah, like I believe that.‟ Toby laughed and went out first, getting the door for him. ‟Home?‟

‟I ain‛t taking you to a movie!‟ Elliot rolled his eyes and looked disgusted.

Toby considered kicking him in the shin. They walked together, and Toby didn‛t hurry. He wanted to think out in the fresh air. Could he be with Elliot without thinking of Chris? Did Elliot really want that?

‟What‛re ya thinking?‟ Elliot knocked Toby out of his thoughts.

‟Truth or lie?‟ Toby didn‛t smile. He wanted Elliot to know that he was serious.

‟Always the truth,‟ Elliot said firmly. ‟So?‟

‟I was wondering if you‛re serious about this or if you just want to be friends.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟Get it?‟

Elliot gave him a sideways look. ‟Serious how?‟

Toby licked his lips.

Elliot threw up his hand. ‟Never mind. I get it. And I think I‛m about as sure as you are.‟

‟Not sure,‟ Toby whispered. He wasn‛t. Oh, he wanted him, but he was afraid that it was all about Chris, not Elliot, and Toby didn‛t want to do that. The thought slightly sickened him. ‟Are you working tomorrow?‟

‟Early. Very early.‟ Elliot opened the outer door, and they went in together. Once again, they found themselves stopping at the stairs. Toby didn‛t know what to say or do. He didn‛t want the evening to end, but he was worried. Elliot checked his watch. ‟You‛ll be home?‟

‟I promise.‟ Toby wanted one kiss - a promise and a test. ‟I owe you a kiss.‟

Elliot shook his head. ‟You planted one on me in the locker room.‟

‟Oh, yeah.‟ Toby sighed sadly. ‟Too bad.‟ He blinked in surprise when Elliot took him by the arm. Elliot shut his apartment door right behind Toby‛s ass. He moved in fast and held his face so close, but not touching. Toby felt as if the air was gone from the room. He didn‛t shut his eyes. Elliot‛s lips brushed Toby‛s once and then Toby lost the ability to think rationally. His brain short-circuited and dumped his hard drive into his dick.

Elliot pulled back. ‟Is one enough?‟ he whispered.

Toby opened his mouth, shut it, and tried again. He had to clear his throat. ‟Another one and I‛m not going home tonight.‟

‟One more and I‛m not letting you go.‟ Elliot groaned. ‟You‛ll come knock on my door tomorrow?‟

‟Will I get a kiss?‟ Toby asked breathlessly.

‟Two.‟ Elliot‛s blue eyes sparkled. Toby fumbled for the doorknob. He didn‛t know how he made it out the door and upstairs. He fell on his sofa, groaned loudly, and licked his lips to taste him again. That wasn‛t Chris.

*********

Elliot nearly yanked him back inside and kissed him again. Letting him go was damn hard. Elliot locked his door so he couldn‛t get out easily and sat down on his couch. His dick was so hard it hurt.

‟Toby, you aren‛t getting away again,‟ Elliot said softly. He hoped that Toby had the answer to his question about Chris. There were other things to work out but that was the big thing. Elliot‛s cell phone rang, and he answered it quickly, ‟Stabler.‟

‟I‛m outside. It‛s going to be a long night,‟ Benson said. She immediately clicked off. Elliot went to get his badge and gun. He hoped his dick gave up soon. He‛d work, and tomorrow night, if he were lucky, he‛d get another kiss.

‟What‛s going on, Liv?‟ Elliot asked as he got in and buckled up.

‟Murder and other bad stuff.‟ She hit the siren. Elliot adjusted his jeans, hoping that she didn‛t notice. He had to work.

********

Toby spent the day in a fog. He was very careful not to curse. Actually, he‛d tried not to talk all that much. It seemed the safest way to blend into Angus‛s family. Some part of him knew it was his children and his mother, but he felt disconnected. The worry that it would all be snatched away at any moment pounded in his veins.

His mother hugged him, and he could still feel her arms around him. He cried. She had too, and that had made it okay. He‛d been so afraid that she hated him. She didn‛t, and it gave him strength that he needed.

‟I have to go, Angus,‟ Toby said. The kids had been in bed for an hour, but he didn‛t want to leave. He was home - finally.

Angus nodded. Toby hoped that wasn‛t relief on his brother‛s face. ‟Next week, we‛re going to the lake for the weekend.‟

Toby knew what that meant. He slipped into his coat. ‟Walk me out, Angus.‟ He wasn‛t sure what he was going to say, but it was time to have words.

Angus looked nervous, clearing his throat twice. ‟We do still have commitments, Toby.‟

‟You have made it perfectly clear over the last six months that I‛m a pain in your butt.‟ Toby didn‛t yell, but he wanted to. ‟We used to be close. What‛s your problem?‟

‟You‛re not going to curse at me?‟ Angus put his hands on his hips.

Toby sighed. ‟I can if you want. What are you going to do when I come home?‟

‟Will you? Or are you going to deliver drugs for another cellmate? O‛Reily this time?‟ Angus‛s voice dripped scorn. ‟It‛s my job to protect Holly and Harry.‟

‟From ex-cons like me.‟ Toby didn‛t bother to make it a question. ‟How long before you trust me again? Or am I just screwed?‟

Angus turned away. ‟Longer than it‛s been.‟ He took two steps and then whirled back. The look on his face was ugly. ‟Are you still gay?‟

Toby flipped him off and got in the limo. ‟Get me home, Raphael.‟ He rubbed his face and tried not to snarl a dozen curse words. They boiled out anyway. He was glad the drive was an hour or more because right now he wanted to hurt someone. His brother had no right. He slammed his fist into his hand. Angus had every right.

‟He doesn‛t trust me,‟ Toby said softly to himself. He had done it. Destroyed it. He may never get it back, and Angus was the gatekeeper to Toby‛s children. Toby lay back and closed his eyes. Control. He had to find some control. There was time, and Angus still let him see them. Toby groaned. He wanted to see them every weekend, but Angus wasn‛t going to allow that, not yet.

Toby could only serve his time and hope for the best. One thing he did know after today: Holly loved him. She was still worried that he‛d vanish, but he‛d held her and promised, and she might have believed him. Harry was different. He might never come to see Toby as his father. Toby rubbed his eyes. He‛d come to accept that years ago, but he wasn‛t going to let it stop him from trying, and he had to believe that sooner or later Angus would trust him again.

And then there was Elliot. Fuck.

*********

Elliot didn‛t worry until it got to be slightly after eleven, and then he walked out by the mailboxes. He knew he was going to look stupid, but he sat down on the third step to wait. Leaning back against his elbows, he didn‛t dwell on the last two days. They‛d been long ones, and sleep had been a joke, but he was home now, and he wanted Toby to come back.

If it had gone poorly, Toby might have gone drinking. His kids had the power to send him right back to the bottle, and Elliot understood it. There was nothing worse than a child‛s scorn or fear or mistrust. The step dug into Elliot‛s back, and he was glad because it was keeping him awake. He shut his eyes for a second to relax.

‟Uh, Elliot? I thought I was supposed to knock on the door?‟

Elliot jerked awake. He blushed and fumbled to his feet. ‟Shit.‟ That was all that came out until his brain kicked in. ‟Did it go okay?‟

Toby shrugged. ‟Go to bed. Maybe we‛ll talk tomorrow.‟

Elliot knew a brush off when he heard one, and it made him hesitate. He slicked his hands down his jeans. ‟I - well - fine.‟ He took a step towards his apartment. Toby caught him by the arm, and he looked down at the hand on him. ‟Don‛t hurt me like you hurt him.‟

Toby flinched as if he‛d been shot. Elliot didn‛t know where those words had come from, but he wasn‛t taking them back. He waited for an answer - anything.

‟I can‛t. Not tonight.‟ Toby‛s blue eyes were full of unshed tears. ‟I have a lot at stake here.‟

Elliot saw the truth, and it was only lies that could hurt him. He nodded, stepped, and wrapped his arms around him. ‟I‛m sorry.‟ Those were the only words he could find. Toby was limp for one second and then clutching the next. He buried his face into Elliot‛s neck. Elliot heard the soft sob, and his heart gave a twist.

‟Hang on,‟ Elliot whispered.

Toby tore away from him and went up the stairs quickly. Elliot didn‛t follow. It wasn‛t time, and it would be a mistake. He went to his apartment and shut the door quietly.

********

Toby didn‛t want to go to the church. He wanted to hide under his bed. He‛d dreamed that Angus had found out about Elliot and had taken the kids to Europe. It had been terrible, and Toby still had a nasty taste in his mouth. Fear. That was it. Fear - pure and simple. He took a shower and tried to wash it away, but it clung to him.

Fuck.

He dressed in his ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. His eyes looked puffy in the mirror and he bowed his head, praying might help. Nothing came out. He was locked up. The clock said it was time to go, so he went, but his heart wasn‛t in it. The taxi dropped him off, and he went up the steps. His legs felt heavy. He could hear the sound of Mass, and he ducked down the stairs to the kitchen. There had to be something he could do, but he couldn‛t think of anything. Angus had him by the nuts.

Toby hung up his coat and found a simple job to do. He watched his hands work and tried not to think. There was nothing he could do. He couldn‛t have both.

‟Elliot Stabler! Is that you? Again?‟ That was Claudia.

‟What‛s for lunch?‟ Elliot cracked. Toby felt the hairs on his neck prickle. He lowered his head further and worked. Forever and six seconds passed and Elliot was next to him. ‟Need some help?‟

‟No. I got it.‟ Toby didn‛t want to look at him, but he did and regretted it. ‟Help Alexa with the heavy pots.‟

Elliot bit his lower lip. ‟I will. You okay?‟

Toby did the worst thing he could think of. He lied. ‟Peachy. Now move it.‟

Elliot‛s eyes turned stormy blue, and he was gone to the other side of the kitchen. Toby forced his lungs to work again. There was no choice here. He had to do what was right for his children, and that meant he had to stay straight.

********

Elliot had no idea what was going on in Toby‛s head, but he was going to find out. They were going to talk. No lies. He mashed potatoes and kept an eye out for anyone that needed help with something heavy. Toby had been right. The kitchen was short on people. Elliot pressed his lips together. He knew people, and he knew how to get things done. Father Michael needed help down here, and Elliot was going to see that it happened.

When the dishes were done and the pots hung up for another week, Elliot hunted down Toby. Toby was in the freezer, and Elliot shut the door hard.

‟Ready to go home?‟

Toby continued moving food from the right to the left. ‟I have to do this first.‟

‟What the hell are you doing?‟

‟Old stuff goes on the left. When we get a delivery this week, it‛ll go on the right.‟ Toby was sweating slightly. ‟I‛ll catch a cab. Go on.‟

Elliot made an exasperated noise. He picked up a flat of lettuce and moved it. ‟We are going to talk. You‛re not going to shut me out.‟

Toby blew out a big breath. ‟Elliot, my balls are in a vise here.‟

‟Why?‟ Elliot kept moving food. He did appreciate the honesty though. Toby didn‛t stop working, and he looked tired.

‟My brother is limiting my visits. He‛s waiting for me to screw up.‟ Toby didn‛t look at him. His words came out as fog and seemed to fly to the ceiling. ‟I love you. Okay? But it doesn‛t mean shit. If Angus finds out, I‛ll never see my children again.‟

Elliot felt the breath whoosh from his body. ‟He said that?‟

‟He asked me if I was still gay.‟ Toby grunted. ‟I know the score. I‛m not a damn fool!‟

Elliot had no idea what to say, but he believed it. He‛d seen enough of family court to know it was true. Toby had no rights to his children. Angus held all the cards. Elliot moved another box. He put it down, reached, and touched Toby‛s hand lightly. ‟Okay. I understand. We‛ll be friends. Nothing more. I won‛t . . . I can‛t lose it all.‟

Toby fumbled with the box and shoved it on the rack. With a swipe of his hand, he wiped his brow. ‟The thought hurts like hell, and I want to kill someone.‟ He made a huffy sound. ‟I‛m so fucked.‟

Elliot grabbed the last box. ‟Let‛s find a solution together. Instead of you acting like an ass.‟

Toby said nothing to that, and they exited the freezer one at a time. Elliot blew on his hands. His head was spinning. They weren‛t even going to have a chance.

‟How are we doing down here?‟ Father Michael came around the corner. He smiled, but it slowly dribbled away. ‟Elliot? Toby?‟

Toby shrugged. ‟See ya, Father.‟ He left quickly, and he didn‛t look back. Elliot want to chase him down and strangle him, but a priest was giving him the eye. He felt like a sinner, which he was.

‟I think we‛re done. I‛m new here though.‟ Elliot forced a smile. ‟Which do you need down here more - people or money?‟

‟People.‟ Father Michael sighed. ‟No one has time.‟

‟I‛ll work on it.‟ Elliot would. Catholics stuck together.

‟Were you arguing with Toby? He looked angry.‟ Father Michael furrowed his brow. ‟I don‛t want any conflict down here. You‛re a member of the church.‟

Elliot shook his head. ‟Toby‛s going through a rough time, and we were discussing it.‟

‟Because he‛s gay?‟

Elliot made sure his jaw didn‛t drop open. ‟Excuse me?‟ His eyebrows about climbed on the roof.

Father Michael made a motion, and they were walking together through the church. ‟I thought you knew or I‛d have never spoken of it. Toby‛s a good man. I meant no slur.‟

‟I believe you.‟ Elliot tried to make his brain work. ‟He has children, and he‛s an ex-con. It‛s difficult.‟

‟I can see where it would be.‟ Father Michael stopped at the entrance to the sanctuary, and they both crossed themselves. ‟God never gives us more than we can handle.‟

Elliot stuck his hands in his pockets. He had some change. He‛d light a candle for Chris. ‟The problem is, Father, that He‛s God and slightly out of touch with His creation‛s fragility.‟

‟Do you think so?‟ Father Michael smiled enigmatically and went down the main aisle. Elliot went to St. Mary‛s grotto to light a candle for his cousin. A small prayer also wouldn‛t hurt.

********

Toby didn‛t go home. He didn‛t want to talk. He didn‛t want to face this problem together. What he wanted was to hire someone to kill his brother. He rubbed his forehead and tried to think rationally. He loved Angus. He did. Angus was doing his best to look after Toby‛s children, and unfortunately they did need to be protected from him. He had to face it. He had to come to grips with the fact that he was a criminal - scum - and Angus was right.

‟Damn it!‟ Toby saw a lady coming towards him flinch. She moved farther away. He rubbed his hand through his hair and snapped open his cell phone. ‟Tobias Beecher. I‛m about three blocks south of St. Mark‛s. Yes, Raphael is fine.‟ He leaned against a lamp post and waited. When the limo pulled up, he got in fast.

‟Where to, Mr. Beecher?‟

‟Just drive.‟ Toby found something from the fridge and settled back to think.

********

Elliot saw the black limo pull past the church, and he‛d have bet his left nut that Toby was inside it, sulking. There had to be someone he could ask about Toby‛s rights under the law. Elliot went to his car, found his keys, and rubbed his forehead. Toby was a damn lawyer!

‟Shit,‟ Elliot whispered. He had to butt out. Give up. The thought made him want to punch Angus in the nose. No. This time, he wasn‛t going to walk away. He couldn‛t. Surprised to see the apartment building, he parked and went in to shower. The first thing he was going to do was quietly investigate Angus Beecher, and then he was going to convince Toby to get a lawyer.

Cragen was surprised to see him. ‟No more OT.‟

‟I need to use my computer.‟ Elliot flashed him a grin. ‟I‛m not on the clock.‟

‟Good enough.‟ Cragen didn‛t rush off. ‟Just out of curiosity. Did you give Olivia those earrings?‟

Elliot laughed. ‟From Tiffany‛s? Right. And I won the Lotto.‟ He sat down and turned on his computer. ‟I‛m sure she has a secret admirer.‟

‟Well then, it wasn‛t Beecher.‟ Cragen smiled. ‟I thought maybe he‛d lost his mind.‟

‟Last time I heard, Toby was dating Morales.‟ Elliot shrugged. ‟He has an alibi.‟ He lifted his eyebrows. ‟Did you buy them?‟

Cragen‛s jaw dropped. ‟What?‟ He burst out laughing. ‟Morales? Interoffice romances never work.‟

‟That‛s what I heard from Munch.‟ Elliot leaned back in his chair. He didn‛t want to gossip about Toby any longer, so he asked, ‟You dating anyone?‟

Cragen gave him a short glare and went to his office. Elliot laughed and started doing what he did best - investigating.

*********

Toby went to the bookstore - three of them. He was going to need books to while away the hours that he wouldn‛t be spending with Elliot.

‟You like books, eh, Mr. Beecher?‟ Raphael had a smile on his face.

‟Yes. You?‟ Toby leaned against the limo, instead of getting inside.

‟I don‛t read all that much English.‟ Raphael shrugged. ‟Where now?‟

Toby wasn‛t sure. He didn‛t want to go home. ‟Got a cigarette?‟

Raphael laughed and dug one out. He had a light also. Toby took a lungful and reminded himself that this was a nasty habit that he didn‛t want. ‟You like this job?‟

‟Sure. It‛s a good one.‟ Raphael pulled out another one. ‟You mind?‟

Toby shook his head, and they leaned against the car, smoking. ‟Ever been to prison?‟

Raphael narrowed his eyes. ‟No, sir.‟ But his eyes shifted.

Toby laughed. ‟Yeah, me neither.‟ He grinned. ‟So, are you going to do this until you die?‟

‟Well, I could. I like cars. I liked them a little too much, if you get my meaning.‟ Raphael flashed a quick smile.

‟I used to have a Toyota, among others.‟ Toby had never cared what he drove. ‟What do you drive?‟

Raphael sighed softly. ‟Can‛t afford a car. It‛s New York.‟

‟Parking space alone cost a fortune.‟ Toby took one last drag and ground it out under his shoe. ‟Let‛s go look at cars.‟

‟Really?‟ Raphael‛s eyes were bright.

‟You know a good dealer?‟ Toby didn‛t get in. Not yet. ‟Muscle cars?‟

‟Santa Maria - yes!‟

Toby laughed and got in the limo. He was probably wrong to like Raphael, but only money separated them. Raphael drove a little faster than usual, and Toby looked through his books until they came to a stop. The door practically flew open, and Toby got out laughing. ‟Lead the way, Rafe.‟

Raphael did love cars, and he knew more about them than was probably healthy for a man. Toby‛s eyes started to glaze over somewhere between torque and wheel sizes. Finally, he held up his hands and asked, ‟Why doesn‛t the limo company provide me with one of these?‟

Raphael frowned. ‟I don‛t understand, sir.‟

Toby opened his cell phone. ‟You will.‟ He spent the next half an hour negotiating with the owner of the limo company but in the end, he got his way. ‟Pick one, Raphael. Make sure it can seat four safely and has a good radio.‟

Raphael‛s eyes were enormous. ‟Sir?‟

‟I like blue, but yellow would be fine.‟ Toby smiled. He had to hide this transaction or Lennon would kick Toby‛s ass back to lockup for a week.

Raphael came back with a glowing face. ‟How the hell are you working this?‟

Toby grinned. ‟The limo company is buying it, with my money. When I call, if I ask for it, you‛ll drive. I‛m trusting you with it. Okay?‟

Raphael put his hand to his heart. ‟Santa Maria.‟

‟I think she‛d approve.‟ Toby headed for the office to start the paperwork. ‟Don‛t let them send it out to anyone else, okay?‟

‟You bet, boss.‟

Toby made sure it was done right. The owner of the limo company showed up, and they signed several binding contracts.

‟You‛re stupid to pay rent on a car you own!‟

Toby nodded. ‟I know, but I‛m wealthy and eccentric.‟

Raphael had a very large grin on his face. Toby pointed at him. ‟He works for me now.‟

‟You paying his salary?‟ The owner frowned.

‟Yes.‟ Toby nodded. ‟His job is that car and being available to me. Got it?‟

‟You‛re an idiot.‟

‟Granted.‟ Toby took the keys and tossed them to Raphael. ‟Let‛s take it for a drive, and put my books in the trunk.‟ He patted the owner on the back. ‟Send me the bill.‟

‟Oh, I will.‟

Raphael had the motor going, and Toby got in fast. ‟Rafe, you have good taste in cars. You mind working for me?‛

‟Hell no, boss.‟ Raphael smiled. ‟Can I have a raise?‟

Toby laughed. ‟Depends on how fast you can get us out on the interstate.‟ He made sure he was buckled tight.

*********

Elliot had tracked down Judge Allen in chambers. It was a surprise that he was in the building at all. The secretary only made Elliot wait a few minutes, and Allen looked up instantly. ‟Detective, how are you?‟

‟I‛m good.‟ Elliot shook the judge‛s hand. ‟Do you have a minute?‛

‟Certainly. I spoke with Casey Novak the other day. She says that Tobias Beecher is doing well at SVU. I think she‛s planning on hiring him away.‟ Allen was serious. ‟Beecher‛s father is a legend.‟

‟I didn‛t know that.‟ Elliot sat down. He hadn‛t expected that. ‟It‛s never easy growing up in the shadow of a legend.‟

‟I agree. What‛s this about?‟

‟I need some information.‟ Elliot started talking. The one thing he could be sure of was the judge‛s absolute discretion. When they were finished, Elliot‛s head was swimming with more facts than he‛d needed. He was sure a few brain cells had curled up and died. ‟Thanks, Judge. I appreciate the time.‟

Allen smiled. ‟Call me if I can help.‟

Elliot nodded and beat it out of there. He hoped he didn‛t get a bill. Back to the squadroom, he shut off his computer and checked the time. The sun would be down soon, and he needed to think about all this. He didn‛t go home. He drove out to the pier to talk it over with Chris.

*********  
Chapter Ten - Where your treasure is, there will be your heart also. Matthew 6:21

Toby left Raphael buffing the SuperSporty, or whatever it was, and slowly walked out on the pier. He wished his yacht would pull up, but she was docked far from here. The thought of Chris and Elliot waiting for their ship to come in made him smile. He wished he‛d have known them together. It would have been something to see. The water was beautiful, the sun was going down, and Toby took a deep breath. He was committed to his children, but he kept praying that he‛d find some wiggle room for Elliot. So far, he‛d come up with nothing.

Angus already hated Elliot, and that was Toby‛s fault. He should‛ve kept his fat mouth shut after he‛d nearly been killed. It hadn‛t been as important as he‛d thought. Stupid mistake. Of course, that big gun had been scary.

‟Waiting for your ship to come in?‟

Toby whipped around - his heart in his throat. ‟Fuck!‟

Elliot laughed and pointed away from the water. ‟Did you see that muscle car? Damn, now that‛s a sweet ride.‟

‟It‛s my ride.‟ Toby rubbed his chest to make sure his heart had restarted. He knew Elliot hadn‛t followed him, but it was nice that he was here.

‟You bought a car? Lennon is gonna kill you!‟ Elliot rubbed his hand down his face. ‟Damn it, Toby!‟

Toby sat down on the end of the pier, his legs hanging off into space. He wasn‛t going to lie, but he was going to dance around the truth. ‟My limo company now caters to a more exclusive sort of clientele. That was Raphael cleaning off the bugs.‟

Elliot levered himself down next to him. ‟Oh. Well. That‛s okay. I thought -‟

‟I put Rafe on my payroll. He works for me now, whether I want a limo or that car.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟He already asked for a raise.‟

‟You must like him. Don‛t spoil him on caviar.‟ Elliot put his hand on Toby‛s thigh. ‟Are you ready to discuss this?‟

‟Shit, Elliot. It‛s no damn use. You should go find some pretty lawyer to date.‟ Toby didn‛t want that, but it was the truth. ‟I‛ll never get custody of my kids, and Angus will deny me access if he finds out that I‛m not straight. I could look you up when they go to college, but that‛s the earliest that I‛m willing to risk it.‟

Elliot rubbed his eyes. ‟Can I push you in?‟

Toby looked down at the water. It was filthy. ‟I might die from some disease.‟

‟You might.‟ Elliot took him firmly by the shoulder. ‟Chris pushed me in once.‟

‟Just once? I bet he wanted to every day of the week.‟ Toby laughed, but he grabbed hold of Elliot‛s sweatshirt just in case. ‟If I get wet, Raphael won‛t let me in the car.‟

Elliot smiled and turned him loose. ‟I miss him.‟

‟Me too. When he wasn‛t killing people.‟ Toby leaned into him. ‟Or did you mean Rafe? I can yell for him.‟

‟Not funny.‟ Elliot leaned and whispered, ‟You‛re the only pretty lawyer I‛m interested in.‟

Toby slugged him in the arm for the insult. ‟Better get over it.‟

Elliot got to his feet and pulled Toby with him. ‟Let‛s go buy a pizza and talk. No moping around.‟

‟Take all the fun out of my life, will ya?‟ Toby went with him though. They could talk. It wasn‛t going to change anything, but it wasn‛t as if his social calendar was full. When they got to the cars, Toby looked at Rafe. ‟We‛re going to let Elliot drive. Follow us in his clunker.‟

‟But-‟

Toby smiled. ‟You work for me. If I say you break the rules, you do.‟

Elliot frowned. ‟But-‟

‟You want to drive or not?‟ Toby pitched his voice loud enough to carry back to the pier. ‟Geez.‟

Raphael and Elliot sighed and tossed keys. ‟Not one scratch!‟

Elliot rolled his eyes, but he got in quickly. ‟I know you tried to pull some financial wool over Lennon‛s eyes. You better hope he never sees you getting out of this baby.‟

‟You‛ll back me up.‟ Toby buckled. ‟Blow her out.‟

Elliot licked his lips. Toby saw serious car love in Elliot‛s eyes. ‟Red would have been better.‟

Toby would remember that.

********

Elliot took his keys back reluctantly. He let his eyes caress her one more time. She was a beauty. Raphael had good taste in cars because it had become clear on the drive home that Toby didn‛t know squat about muscle cars or cars in general.

Raphael sighed with relief. ‟Need anything else tonight, boss?‟

Toby dug out some money. ‟My books, but that‛s all. It‛s getting late. Be here every morning at eight thirty. And thank you, Rafe.‟

Raphael took the cash. He opened the trunk and got out several bags. Toby took them. Raphael smiled. ‟My pleasure, sir.‟ He was back in the car in a flash, and Elliot almost wished he were Toby‛s chauffeur.

‟El, quit drooling.‟ Toby tugged him. ‟Come on.‟

Elliot sighed. ‟What did he do to deserve that?‟

‟Hard time.‟ Toby got the door. Elliot didn‛t hesitate this time. He went upstairs, pulling out his cell phone along the way to order a pizza and buffalo wings. This time, Toby was buying. If he could afford that car - wow - he could spring for wings. He went straight for the computer, and Elliot claimed the sofa.

‟You‛re never going to buy a better TV, are ya?‟ Elliot was just poking at him.

‟Spent it all on books.‟ Toby went through the living room with a stack, and Elliot was curious enough to follow him. The light clicked on in the bedroom, and Elliot stopped to stare. Toby put them on a shelf, kneeling to do so, and looked back at him. ‟It‛s not that many!‟

‟Okay. I think I‛ll back slowly away.‟ But Elliot didn‛t. He went to a shelf and started scanning. ‟Have you read all of these?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby sounded half-embarrassed.

‟I‛m surprised the building hasn‛t collapsed under the weight!‟ Elliot laughed when Toby glared at him. ‟You ever sleep?‟

Toby suddenly turned serious. ‟My swastika makes sure I sleep lightly, if at all.‟

Elliot swallowed hard. It was easy to forget the abuse Toby had suffered. ‟Did Chris kill them?‟

‟All of them.‟

‟Good.‟ Elliot went to him and held him tightly. ‟That wasn‛t the cop talking.‟

Toby chuckled softly into Elliot‛s neck. ‟We need to get out of this room.‟

Elliot suddenly felt the bulge. ‟Oh, sorry.‟ He turned him loose. ‟I went to work today, and we need to talk.‟

‟Did you go see Kathy?‟

‟Ah shit!‟ Elliot rubbed his forehead. ‟I knew I forgot something.‟

‟Damn. You‛re a crappy ex-husband!‟ Toby laughed and pushed him out to the living room. ‟Didn‛t you see your kids?‟

‟Had to work.‟ Elliot sighed and sat down. He‛d do it tomorrow. No wonder she‛d divorced him. He backtracked in the conversation. ‟Okay, shut up and let me finish. I went to work and completely investigated your brother.‟

‟What?‟ Toby sat down on the coffee table, and they were facing each other. ‟Are you nuts?‟

Elliot held up his hand. ‟Don‛t get mad. I already did it, and we have to talk. Tell me, is your brother dating anyone?‟

‟Uh, not that I know of.‟ Toby‛s forehead was threatening to break out in a serious case of the veins.

Elliot talked faster. ‟While you were sitting in prison, letting your money accrue interest at an enormous rate, he wasn‛t.‟

‟You ran his financials!‟ Toby clasped his head. ‟Fuck! I‛m dead. Dead!‟

Elliot grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to his knees. ‟Tobias, shut up and listen.‟

Toby swallowed hard. His blue eyes were big. ‟You‛re scaring me.‟

‟Sorry.‟ Elliot turned him loose. ‟Your brother is nearly broke. He has a gambling addiction. Over three million dollars in the last six months alone.‟

‟Oh my God.‟ Toby‛s face turned a pale shade. ‟He said he was going to make partner.‟

‟I doubt it.‟ Elliot shook his head. ‟He was terminated a few months ago. Do your children have trust funds?‟

‟Well, yeah, but they can‛t get hold of them until they‛re eighteen.‟

‟And your brother? Can he?‟ Elliot thought he knew the answer.

Toby paused. He put his head in his hands. ‟Shit.‟ He got up and started pacing. ‟Shit!‟

Elliot let him think for a moment. ‟I spoke to Judge Allen.‟

‟Elliot Stabler! I am going to shank you!‟ Toby came right to him. Elliot got to his feet and glared right back at him. Toby breathed hard through his nose. He was pissed all right. ‟What the fuck did he say?‟

‟He said a lot of stuff, but this is the short version. File for custody. Do not under any circumstances quit your job at SVU. You have grounds, you‛re sober, and your original crime was non-violent.‟

‟Tell that to Kathy Rockwell!‟ Toby walked away from him. Elliot didn‛t step after him. Toby needed a minute. His perception of his family was crumbling, and that was never easy. Elliot didn‛t feel guilty. It was the truth, and that was usually preferable to living a lie. There was a knock at the door, and Toby got it. He paid the pizza boy, and Elliot got out the plates. They sat down at the table.

‟And your mother? Has he drained her assets?‟ Elliot‛s mind had boggled at the amount of money in play.

Toby‛s frown couldn‛t get any deeper. ‟I‛ve been kissing his ass, but tomorrow he‛s going to find out again that I‛m the older brother.‟

Elliot was very glad to hear it. ‟Make sure to speak to Angus‛s former employer. He had an escort service on retainer.‟

‟I‛m gonna kill him. That was the plan, but I‛d changed my mind.‟ Toby hadn‛t taken a bite. ‟I‛m going back to it. That call will be much easier and cost less.‟

Elliot nearly choked. He didn‛t like the crazy gleam in Toby‛s eyes. ‟Toby, I‛m pretty sure that murder is a violation of your parole.‟

Toby looked hard at him. ‟Chris never let that stop him.‟

‟And have you been out to his grave?‟ Elliot tilted his head to the side. ‟Stop playing around with cars and books and go after the one thing that you really care about - your children.‟

‟I should get rid of the car?‟ Toby raised his eyebrows.

Elliot hoped not. ‟Don‛t go that far. Has he asked for money?‟

Toby finally nibbled a piece of pizza, and Elliot took that as encouragement to eat his own. They just ate, and Elliot had no clue what Toby was thinking. Hopefully, not murder and mayhem.

‟Not straight on. He hinted that I should drop some money into the kids‛ trust funds. My responsibility as a parent he said. I hadn‛t done it, but I was considering it.‟

‟I could shoot him,‟ Elliot said quietly. He didn‛t mean it, but he could see stark, raving anger in Toby‛s eyes. Toby bared his teeth in what wasn‛t a smile. Elliot made up his mind to spend the night. Otherwise, Toby might do something very stupid.

*********

Toby made his plan, and it didn‛t involve murder, but he toyed with the idea. If he didn‛t have Elliot, he‛d have done it. Maybe. ‟Are you staying tonight?‟

Elliot bit the inside of his lip. ‟Can I?‟

‟It‛ll keep me from doing something I‛ll regret.‟ Toby abandoned the table and went to check his email. He had three from Holly and one from Harry. His son was going to resist living with him, and what was he going to do about his mother? It was going to be a damn mess, but he was glad Elliot had told him.

‟Will a bookcase fall on me?‟

‟You think I‛m letting you on the bed?‟ Toby smiled and opened his email. He had to do this right, and he had every confidence that Elliot would be with him every step of the way. He found some paper, a pen, and started a list while he read. Some part of him kept track of Elliot‛s movement around the apartment. Elliot even left and came back with a beer, but he didn‛t interrupt. He did turn on the TV.

Toby finally pushed away from the desk. ‟I‛m going to need the day off tomorrow.‟

‟Do you get days off?‟

‟I don‛t think so.‟ Toby went to him but didn‛t sit down. ‟Did you take notes?‟

‟On my desk at work.‟ Elliot changed the channel. ‟I‛m sure Cragen‛ll give you some lost time.‟

‟I hope so.‟ Toby glanced at the TV - the news was on. It was late. He sat down again on the coffee table. ‟That deep voice you used was just like Chris.‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟Can‛t help that. You were freaking out on me.‟

‟I was. I am.‟ Toby took his glasses off and set them aside. He didn‛t know how to bring up the question that had been crossing his mind for the last month or two. ‟Elliot, uh-‟

‟I don‛t have HIV,‟ Elliot interrupted.

Toby clicked his jaw shut. That wasn‛t the question, but they could start there. ‟Well, good. Neither do I.‟

‟You have condoms?‟

Toby shut his eyes for a moment and told his dick not to come. ‟Going right to the big leagues, huh?‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟I try to be prepared.‟

Toby swallowed his spit. He was in the middle of a horrible personal crisis, and right now nothing was more important than the ache in his groin. Changing the subject seemed smart. ‟You think I can win?‟

‟I think you got a shot. It‛s that or watch him throw away every penny. If he hasn‛t already. Who‛s going to look after your children when Angus is in the hospital with broken legs?‟

The words went right to Toby‛s gut. ‟Wouldn‛t he have asked me for money first?‟

‟Maybe your mom bailed him out.‟ Elliot sighed. ‟Now, I‛m not recommending this, but I‛ve seen kids snatched for less.‟

Toby hoped things weren‛t to that point yet. They still had the house at the lake, unless Angus had lied. Shit. Toby wasn‛t above grabbing his kids and running, and he thought that Elliot knew it. Elliot leaned forward and put his hand on Toby‛s shoulder. The touch was enormously comforting.

‟It‛s late. Let‛s get some sleep. You can tackle this tomorrow.‟ Elliot shook him slightly.

‟I don‛t have condoms.‟ Toby jumped right back to what his dick was thinking.

‟I do.‟ Elliot flicked his eyebrow at him. ‟But it can wait.‟

Toby wasn‛t sure he could. He‛d waited forever, ignoring his feelings and the simple lust. ‟Okay, if you‛re staying, I‛ll lock the door.‟

Elliot smiled. Toby went to lock the door and shut off the lights. He was very aware that Elliot had gone into the bedroom. Toby took the time to brush his teeth, but pissing was out of the question. He went into his room and stopped. Elliot was lying on his stomach, flipping through a book in just his jeans.

Toby crawled up him and straddled that perfect ass. He naturally started rubbing Elliot‛s back. Chris had loved it. Elliot would too, and he did make a noise somewhat like a purr. Toby peeled off his shirt, threw it, and rubbed some more.

‟You have a knot.‟ Toby dug at it with his thumbs.

‟That‛s where I‛m worrying about you killing someone.‟ Elliot collapsed flat. ‟You pick up this talent in prison?‟

Toby poked him in the back with his finger. ‟They give a class. I took it right after Making the Perfect Shank.‟

Elliot laughed, but deep in his throat and he wrapped it around a groan. Toby moved lower. His hands were about ready to burst into flames, and his dick was in a serious state of strangulation. Popping off before they‛d done anything was going to be embarrassing.

‟You stopped,‟ Elliot said and looked over his shoulder. Toby blushed. He had done this countless times before, but he had no idea what to do. This wasn‛t prison. They weren‛t stuck in a cell with nothing but each other. Elliot twisted and put his hand on Toby‛s chest. ‟Are you ready?‟

‟Fuck,‟ Toby whispered. He was, but he was tempted to run from the room. A few shots would make this easier - blur the edges. He got off him. ‟Would you mind taking, um, charge?‟

Elliot smiled. ‟I‛ll turn off the light. That‛ll help.‟

Toby nodded. He put the bedside lamp on dim. When there was less light, it did help. Elliot came back to him, and Toby waited to see if Chris was going to be in the room with them.

‟Better?‟

‟Yeah.‟ Toby shut his eyes and then opened them. It was still Elliot. He wasn‛t the same, and it made something deep inside Toby relax. ‟One touch and I‛m finished here.‟

Elliot pushed off the rest of his clothes. ‟Let‛s make it a good one then.‟

Toby fumbled, but he was naked by the time Elliot covered him. Their bodies nestled together. Toby arched up into him as Elliot‛s mouth came down. Hands met and held on tightly, and he drifted away into a haze of pleasure. Elliot didn‛t rush him or pin him down or make him do anything. It was all slow and easy, and Toby ended up with his head pillowed on Elliot‛s stomach.

‟I don‛t think I was ready,‟ Toby said softly.

Elliot brushed his hand through Toby‛s hair. ‟It wasn‛t what I expected either.‟

Toby didn‛t think he heard any regrets, and he certainly had none. ‟I‛m too scrawny, right?‟

‟Right.‟ Elliot pulled him up and curled around him. ‟Set the alarm?‟

‟Yeah.‟ He had earlier and he didn‛t have the energy to turn off the lamp. Not moving seemed like a very good idea. Elliot‛s breath was warm on Toby‛s neck, and Toby shut his heavy eyelids. Tomorrow was going to be one helluva day, but he had absolute faith that Elliot would be standing close by.

********

Elliot listened to him fall asleep. Tomorrow, he‛d have to make sure that Toby didn‛t dash to Connecticut and make this mess worse. It could be handled from here. Lennon would have to be called, and if Elliot had to drive to Connecticut to help out, he would.

Toby mumbled something in his sleep, and Elliot slid his hand down him again. It hadn‛t just been about feeling good. Had Chris felt that spark - that connection? Elliot hoped not, and he hoped so. He sighed and rubbed his forehead into him.

‟Love you,‟ Elliot whispered.

Toby slept, and Elliot did too. It was the smell of good coffee that woke him up. He stretched, rubbed his face, and stretched again. He slipped out of bed, looking for his briefs and realizing that he‛d never faced this situation with another man. But this was Toby, and that made it different altogether.

‟Save any for me?‟ Elliot asked as he rounded the corner.

‟Nope.‟ Toby saluted him with a mug that said NYPD SUCKS.

Elliot found his glare and leveled it at him. ‟That‛s too damn much!‟

‟I didn‛t pay all that much for it, and look, it has a picture of a guy taking it up the ass.‟ Toby giggled. Elliot rubbed his face. He sure as hell hadn‛t expected to wake up to this! Toby was fully dressed - ready for work. Elliot found a mug that said nothing and got some coffee. It was very good, so he toned down his glare. Toby checked his watch. ‟Rafe will be here shortly. Thanks for telling me the truth about Angus.‟

‟I did wonder if I was doing the right thing.‟ Elliot felt his brain twist. Toby was nuts one minute and serious the next. He was never dull. ‟Stressed?‟

‟To the damn max.‟ Toby went to shut off his computer. ‟But things are already moving. Unlike Angus, I still have friends that are lawyers.‟

Elliot swallowed his coffee. ‟You do?‟

It was Toby‛s turn to glare. ‟And a judge or two.‟

‟Oh, that reminds me. Judge Allen said he‛s in your corner.‟ Elliot needed to get a move on if he was going to keep an eye on the Beechers today. ‟And don‛t be surprised if Novak offers you a real job.‟

Toby came over to him. ‟I doubt if I‛ll be taking it. She gives me the willies.‟

‟What the hell do you mean?‟ Elliot was surprised and let it show. Toby didn‛t like Novak? Toby slid his hand up Elliot‛s arm and drew a little closer. Elliot put his cup down, and Toby kissed him on the chin and worked his way up Elliot‛s jawline. Elliot shivered when lips brushed his ear. ‟That‛s cheating.‟

‟I gotta go.‟ Toby kissed him on the mouth, teased with his tongue, and headed for the door. ‟Catch up with me later.‟

‟Oh, don‛t worry about that. Don‛t leave the state.‟ Elliot followed him, but kept the coffee. It was going to be a busy day.

*********

Toby didn‛t take a deep breath until noon and that was because he needed to yell. ‟Lennon! For fuck‛s sake!‟

‟No!‟ Lennon yelled right back. ‟Your kids are safe with your mother, aren‛t they?‟

‟Well, yes.‟ Toby throttled it back. He hoped so. ‟I have to wait until Saturday?‟

Lennon put his hands on his hips. ‟If you think I‛m going to let you go rushing up there so you can beat the shit out of your brother, you‛re crazy! When the case goes to court, you can go. Don‛t leave the state until then.‟

‟Fuck!‟ Toby wanted to pull his hair out.

‟Hey, guys.‟ Elliot had opened the door enough that they could see his face. ‟Can you keep it down? You‛re scaring the perps.‟

Lennon rubbed his forehead. ‟Do not leave the state! Got it?‟

Toby nodded, but he wasn‛t finished. ‟If something happens to them, expect a civil suit.‟

‟Toby, I‛ll go check on them.‟ Elliot dropped the words into the charged silence. ‟Right after work.‟

Lennon pointed at him. ‟Pay for his gas, rich boy.‟

Toby kicked a chair the length of the room. ‟Asshole,‟ he muttered. He walked away from them before he threw a punch he‛d regret for the rest of his life. His cell phone rang, and he answered it after a look. ‟Hello, Angus.‟

‟What the hell are you doing, Toby?‟ Angus snarled.

Toby found a corner out of the way of traffic. ‟I‛m securing my children‛s future. I‛m their father. Remember?‟

‟No!‟ Angus blew out a breath. ‟Toby, I‛ve helped you. I‛ve been on your side!‟

Toby had to bite back a curse word. ‟You ransacked their trust funds!‟

‟I‛ll win it back,‟ Angus pouted. ‟Soon. I have plans. Big plans!‟

‟We‛re done talking. I‛ll see you in court.‟ Toby snapped his phone shut. He was more worried about the reaction of his mother. His brother was caught in a web of addiction, and he was still firmly in denial. Toby knew it when he saw it.

Suddenly, Elliot was staring at him. ‟I‛ll go after work, okay?‟

‟No.‟ Toby shook his head. ‟You‛ll go see Kathy. My mother is there.‟

‟Toby.‟

‟No.‟ Toby pushed his finger into Elliot‛s chest. ‟No.‟

Elliot put his hands on his hips. Toby shook his head, went around him, and headed for his desk. Munch met him halfway there. ‟You got a visitor, Beech.‟

Toby turned in the direction that Munch‛s finger pointed. ‟Oh, man.‟

‟You sure you aren‛t Jewish?‟

Toby didn‛t waste time talking to Munch. He practically ran. ‟Mother, what are you doing here?‟

‟Tobias, we have to talk.‟ Victoria Beecher had the power to reduce Toby to tears with a look. He helped her up, and they went upstairs together. Toby got her some coffee and sat down next to her. He couldn‛t seem to force out a word. She patted his hand. ‟This all started when Angus was stabbed.‟

Toby‛s throat closed up, but he managed a nod.

She sipped her coffee. ‟I can tell you made that.‟ She continued, ‟He started taking risks. It was as if he were frightened that he‛d die any minute.‟

‟I‛m sorry,‟ Toby choked out. He felt one inch tall - maybe.

‟Tobias, you‛re not to blame. He made his own choices. I tried to help him, but he can‛t stop.‟ Victoria‛s eyes were sad. ‟I‛ll support you in this custody battle. The children need their father. Harry needs you.‟

Gratitude swept over him. ‟Mother, I don‛t want to hurt him.‟

Victoria smiled. ‟I know, but he‛s out of control. We need to protect the children and their funds now. What‛s left.‟

Toby nodded. ‟My lawyer had the accounts frozen, pending an investigation. If I do get custody, what will you do?‟

‟I expect we‛ll find solutions to everything.‟ She looked about. ‟It‛s so nice to be in the city again. Angus refused to bring me. He claimed it was dangerous!‟

Toby clasped his hands together so he didn‛t make fists. They had to talk away from here. ‟Let me take you out for lunch.‟

‟That would be nice. Introduce me to your boss first.‟ Victoria got to her feet. ‟Your father would be proud of you, working here. You‛re helping people, not thinking about how much money you can make.‟

‟Mother, I‛m rich,‟ Toby whispered.

‟No, Son, you‛re wealthy, and you were listening when your father talked about giving back. I wasn‛t sure at the time.‟ She got to her feet. ‟Are they nice to you?‟

Toby laughed softly. ‟They‛re cops, Mother.‟

She laughed with him.

*********

Elliot strolled over to Munch‛s desk. ‟Who‛s the dame?‟

‟That would be the redoubtable Mrs. Harrison Beecher. Lady Justice dropped her blindfold to wink at her.‟ Munch almost smiled. ‟Toby is putty in her hands.‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟She‛s his mother. When my mother said jump, I asked how high.‟ He had loved his mother. ‟Did Novak come to genuflect?‟

‟There she is now.‟ Munch got to his feet. ‟I can‛t watch.‟

Elliot could, but he went back to his desk. Benson parked her butt on the edge of it. ‟Casey, you here about the case?‟

‟No. I heard Mrs. Beecher was in the building and wanted to pay my respects. Excuse me one minute.‟ Novak dashed up the stairs.

Elliot shrugged. ‟Interesting.‟

‟Beecher is married?‟ Benson was craning her neck to see.

‟Liv, you missed another meeting.‟ Elliot grinned. ‟Toby‛s father was Harrison Beecher.‟

‟The Harrison Beecher?‟ Benson‛s eyes grew wide.

‟That would be the one.‟ Elliot leaned back in his chair. This was almost as much fun as the earrings had been. ‟Toby‛s mother is here.‟

‟Well.‟ Benson cleared her throat. ‟I had no idea.‟

‟Or you‛d have been nicer, I know,‟ Elliot needled at her. ‟Or, maybe not.‟

Benson speared him with a look. ‟I still think he‛s a skel.‟

‟More to a man than meets the eye generally.‟ Elliot wasn‛t sure if he should hide or not. Mrs. Beecher might not be thrilled to meet Chris Keller‛s cousin and lookalike. In the end, it didn‛t matter though. Cragen and Novak took over the show, and Elliot was happy to stay far back. Toby looked almost shy. His eyes stayed on his mother‛s face. It was touching, and Elliot decided he would go see Kathy tonight.

*********

Toby got a very good grip on his emotions before he went back to the squadroom. His mother had gone home, his children were fine - he‛d spoken to them - and there was nothing else he could do today. The wheels of the family court system turned slowly. He checked the time. It was three. He‛d work until midnight.

Files littered his desk, and he started sorting them. His mother‛s words danced through him, and for the first time, in a very long time, he almost felt proud or at least not so much of a fuck up. She‛d wanted to see his apartment, and she‛d approved of it and of his life. A tiny glow lodged near his heart, and he wanted to hold onto it as long as possible.

‟Working ‛til midnight?‟ Cragen asked. He had an armful of files.

‟I thought I would, if you don‛t mind.‟ Toby smiled, and he knew he looked stupid. ‟Thanks for helping me out today.‟

Cragen nodded, giving him the files. ‟Your mother is a nice lady. We‛ll work your schedule around court dates and lawyers. Just keep me up to speed. You can always trade out a Saturday or Sunday for a weekday.‟

‟Sounds good.‟ Toby would remember that. ‟Okay, where to first?‟

‟Mail.‟ Cragen turned away. ‟And get someone over here from TARU. Elliot‛s computer is on the fritz.‟

‟I‛ll look at it.‟ Toby rubbed the back of his neck and switched gears. It was two hours before he got to Elliot‛s computer, and Elliot was sitting in his chair, chewing a straw. Toby yanked it out and threw it away. ‟Move your ass.‟

‟Oh, bite me.‟ Elliot laughed. ‟Just crawl under there and fix it.‟

Toby had to laugh with him. He leaned close to Elliot‛s ear and said very softly, ‟If I crawl under there, I will bite you.‟

‟I could get some coffee.‟ Elliot got up fast. ‟Nah, I‛ll head to Kathy‛s.‟

‟Good idea.‟ Toby surveyed Elliot‛s desk. ‟How many open cases?‟

‟Ten. I‛ll be back tonight. It‛s going to be a long week.‟ Elliot stretched his back. ‟Are you going to fill me in?‟

‟Later.‟ Toby started checking connections. ‟Drive me home at midnight?‟

‟If I‛m around.‟ Elliot shrugged, but Toby saw a gleam in Elliot‛s eye. They‛d go home together. ‟I‛ll bring burgers back.‟

Toby dug in his pocket and tossed a twenty on the desk. ‟Get milkshakes too.‟

Elliot grabbed it up and left the squadroom. Toby picked up his keyboard, disconnected it, and shook it out over the trash can. Next, he cleaned the underside of the mouse. He worked his way through the computer. The internet connection was down, and it wasn‛t an easy fix. At that point, he called Morales and went to grab the files off his desk. Toby also found the case that Novak had left him. He groaned, but he‛d do it. It wasn‛t that he didn‛t like researching for her. It was just that it usually meant extra hours, and he was juggling his schedule as it was. Shit.

********

‟Where are you at, Elliot?‟

Elliot tossed his toothpick away and gave Cragen a rundown on each case. It took a while. Spring madness was in the air. ‟How much OT you got for me this month?‟

‟Not much. We‛re short on funds. They threatened to cut Beecher‛s job but were afraid of Judge Allen.‟ Cragen looked disgusted. ‟It isn‛t going to last though.‟

‟Damn. I‛ll miss the coffee.‟ Elliot started organizing things for tomorrow. He‛d known that it wasn‛t going to last, but he wished it could. ‟Olivia went home?‟

‟Yes. You go too.‟ Cragen went to interrogate Fin, and Elliot checked the time. Nearly midnight. Toby was at his desk, doing something that involved a lot of clicking. Elliot finished up and wandered over to Toby‛s desk. He leaned his hip against a corner and slid up to rest on one leg.

‟You block out the light,‟ Toby snipped at him.

‟I eat regular. You should try it.‟ Elliot pointed at the half-eaten cheeseburger. The shake was gone though. ‟Did you hear that? You‛re going to be terminated soon.‟

‟I heard. Novak wants me in her office.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟How does Cragen keep going, year after year?‟

Elliot looked across the squadroom at his boss. ‟I guess he figures he‛ll do the good he can.‟

‟Do you want his job someday?‟ Toby‛s eyes were serious now.

‟Dunno. I think I have a rep as a hot head, so it probably won‛t happen.‟ Elliot wasn‛t sure he wanted to deal with One Police Plaza on a daily basis.

‟You think? Uh, El, you have a temper - a bad one. My nose still hurts.‟ Toby sighed, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes. ‟Time to quit. My eyes are blurry.‟

Elliot went to lock his gun up. By the time he had his coat on, Toby was ready. They went out together. The ride home was quiet. It was late, and Toby had to be tired. They both checked their mail, and Elliot would have gone to his own apartment, but Toby tugged him up the stairs. He didn‛t need much convincing.

Toby locked the door, and Elliot tossed his coat on the sofa. ‟Toby, you okay?‟

‟Surprisingly, yes. My mother is behind me. Angus is melting down, and my lawyers are confident. It could be worse.‟ Toby didn‛t turn on his computer. He stretched. ‟You did a helluva job investigating him. Thank you.‟

‟It‛s what I do.‟ Elliot moved towards him, and he took a step back. Toby retreated all the way across the apartment and into his bedroom. Elliot didn‛t stop until he was stretched out on top of him, stealing a kiss. ‟Don‛t skip too many meetings. Lennon will notice.‟

‟I know.‟ Toby kissed him. ‟Are there any three bedroom apartments in this building? Or should I move?‟

‟Don‛t you want a house on Long Island?‟ Elliot kissed Toby‛s neck.

‟I like Manhattan.‟ Toby drew away. ‟Apartments?‟

Elliot tried to think. His dick was throbbing. ‟I think there‛s one on the main floor. Not sure.‟

Toby came back for more kisses, and Elliot stopped thinking altogether. When the clothes had been shed, Toby‛s mouth moved down and it felt so good. Elliot shut his eyes and let it happen. He gave what he was given, and did his best to be gentle when he wanted to possess. Toby was more confident this time, and Elliot swatted him playfully on the head when his ass was bitten.

‟I gotta get to the drugstore,‟ Toby panted.

‟Not now.‟ Elliot pulled him up and kissed him. Toby laughed, and it was a good sound. Elliot wanted to hear it more often. Not that short bark, but pure laughter. No giggling though. He held him close. ‟More?‟

Toby slipped his hand down. ‟I think so.‟ He caressed Elliot‛s cock. ‟Would you, uh, without a condom?‟

‟You trust me that much?‟ Elliot wasn‛t sure, not at all.

‟Yes. I‛m still pissed about the hooker, but I trust you.‟

Elliot didn‛t meet Toby‛s eyes. The pro had been a mistake, but he didn‛t want to discuss it. ‟Let‛s wait.‟

Toby groaned. ‟Okay.‟ He turned him loose. ‟Sleep then.‟

Elliot wanted to change his mind, but he was tired also. He groaned softly and kissed Toby on the shoulder. ‟Good night.‟

Toby rolled so they were chest to chest. His eyes were shut, and he was getting comfortable. ‟Love you, El.‟ The words were soft and followed by a small sigh.

Elliot kissed him. ‟Ditto.‟ Toby smiled, and Elliot let him drift away. How could this be a sin? Wasn‛t God about love? Elliot had done his time in Catholic school, but he couldn‛t believe that God punished love. And if he was sent to hell for this, he‛d go with no regrets.

********

Toby took a long shower. He was sticky. It had been so good. He quivered a little as he washed his dick. Damn. Elliot was great in bed.

‟Room for me?‟

Toby started guiltily. ‟It‛ll be crowded.‟

‟I like crowded.‟ Elliot got in the back. ‟You‛ve been touching that.‟

‟I was thinking of you!‟ Toby blushed. He leaned back though when Elliot curled around him. ‟Last night was . . . I‛m at a loss.‟

‟You? A lawyer?‟ Elliot kissed him on the neck. ‟Damn! I am good in the sack.‟

Toby moved forward so some of the water hit him. ‟Braggart.‟

‟Now your vocabulary kicks in.‟ Elliot started using the soap.

‟Hey, did Kathy like the ring?‟ Toby had been meaning to ask last night, but he‛d forgotten after a few kisses.

Elliot groaned softly. His hard cock was now pressing against Toby‛s ass. ‟She loved it. I got laid.‟

‟By me, yeah, and I didn‛t get any jewelry.‟ Toby pushed back into it, and Elliot made a sound that was indescribable. ‟Right there. Pump.‟

Elliot didn‛t need to hear it twice. Toby kept his soapy thighs together and stroked himself. Elliot reached around to help out, and Toby put his head back. The rush started slow, built fast, and burst out of him hard. Elliot groaned, ‟Shit.‟

Toby managed to turn, kissed him, and stroked out the last of his come. ‟Almost as good as coffee.‟

Elliot ducked his head under the water. ‟Better than mine.‟

They laughed together. Toby tingled and soaped Elliot. ‟You‛re heavier than him. Built different. The more I see of you, the less I think you look like him.‟

‟Take off the rose-colored glasses.‟ Elliot dug his fingers into Toby‛s scalp. ‟Growing your hair out again?‟

Toby gathered from the abrupt change that Elliot didn‛t want to discuss Chris in the shower. They finished quickly, and Toby threw a towel at him. ‟I‛ll stop to get donuts.‟

Elliot grinned. Toby hung up his towel and went to get dressed. Elliot was right behind him, and Toby was surprised when Elliot put his hand on Toby‛s ass. ‟Let me see.‟

Toby had thought that Elliot had looked, but maybe not. He bent over a little to show it off. Elliot made a soft sound that could‛ve meant anything. Toby didn‛t rush him. ‟You okay?‟

‟What kind of man does that?‟ Elliot asked softly. ‟No. Don‛t answer.‟ He turned Toby around and kissed him. ‟Sorry.‟

Toby kissed him back. ‟Old pain. I like to think of it as a souvenir.‟

‟A warning?‟

‟When I‛m really craving a drink, I get the mirror out and look at it. This way lies madness.‟ Toby made sure not to sound whiny. He found some boxers. ‟Let‛s go to work.‟

‟Donuts?‟ Elliot frowned. Toby laughed. He wasn‛t going to forget the donuts.

********  
Chapter Eleven - The sleep of a laboring man is sweet. Deuteronomy 6:21

Elliot rubbed his face and opened the door to the crib. He just needed a couple of hours - that was all.

‟Oof!‟

Elliot caught the pile of sheets that had bumbled into him. ‟Got it?‟

‟Yeah. Get the hell out of the way.‟

‟Man, you get all the shit jobs.‟ Elliot laughed.

‟Tell me about it.‟

Elliot shut the door behind him. Grabbing a kiss wasn‛t possible, and he shouldn‛t even think about it at work. He plunked his ass down on a cot, shoved off his shoes, and took off his tie. Sleep wasn‛t an option any longer, it was a necessity, and he shut his eyes.

‟Elliot, darling, Cragen wants you in interview room two.‟

‟Come on, Kath. Two more minutes,‟ Elliot mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, rolled over, and nearly burst into flames from the anger pouring out of Toby‛s blue eyes. ‟Uh, well, hi, Toby.‟

‟Jerk.‟ Toby kicked the cot. ‟Get moving. Forget the tie. It‛s five years out of style anyway!‟

Elliot got his shoes back on and scrubbed his head with his hands. He had to wake up. ‟I need coffee.‟

Toby put a mug in Elliot‛s hand. Elliot got to his feet and started walking. ‟Where?‟

‟Interview room two.‟ Toby opened the door for him. Elliot went quickly before Toby kicked him in the ass. He deserved it. Later, he‛d apologize. Kathy always called him darling. It was an easy mistake to make, except for the smell of aftershave. He wiped the smile from his face and went to work.

‟Hey, Elliot!‟

Elliot pulled his head up. He‛d just leaned back in his chair for a minute. His feet hit the floor. ‟Hey, Lennon. What‛s up?‟

‟Beecher has to go to Connecticut to see his lawyer. Can you check that he gets home?‟

‟Sure.‟ Elliot wasn‛t completely sure what day it was. He looked. ‟Today?‟

‟Tomorrow.‟ Lennon laughed. ‟You awake?‟

Elliot shrugged. He was now. Lennon went back to Toby‛s desk, and Elliot sighed. It had been a long week.

‟Elliot, go home and don‛t come back until Monday,‟ Cragen said as he walked past. ‟Or Tuesday.‟

‟It‛s only Thursday!‟ Elliot protested. He had work to do. Cragen didn‛t listen. He shut his office door. ‟Shit.‟ Elliot looked over his desk. He started by throwing away the trash - there was a lot of it. When he got back, Toby was shaking Elliot‛s keyboard over another trash can. Elliot sighed. ‟It‛s not that bad!‟

‟Uh, yeah. It is.‟ Toby put it down though. ‟Want me to collect the files?‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟Do what you want.‟

‟Wow, miss a week of sleep and you get cranky!‟ He laughed and started sorting. ‟How many do you have left open?‟

‟Why?‟ Elliot growled.

‟Cragen told me to go give them to Fin. I‛ll have to find him, but I‛m sure he‛s around here somewhere.‟ Toby had the decency to blush. Elliot found them and put them in Toby‛s arms. He guessed he was going home for a couple of days.

Elliot had that feeling that he got when he‛d go home after a week of hard work and Kathy would yell at him. It was an itchiness in his gut. He‛d screwed up. Hadn‛t done enough. Toby might walk away from him. Kathy had.

‟You mad?‟ he asked softly.

Toby looked confused. ‟No. You?‟

‟Tired.‟ Elliot bit his lip. ‟Maybe you should drive.‟

Toby laughed and took the files away. He wasn‛t mad. Elliot was relieved and ashamed that he cared so much. He sat back down and turned off his computer. It was time to go home. Toby was suddenly back.

‟Hey, El, wait ten minutes and I‛ll go with you.‟

Elliot nodded. ‟Sure.‟ He wouldn‛t show how much he wanted that. The fear that Toby would turn away from him because of a long work week faded. ‟You‛re not mad?‟

‟We‛ll talk later.‟ Toby furrowed his brow. ‟I‛ll order Chinese.‟

Elliot got to his feet. ‟Your turn to buy.‟

Toby didn‛t argue. Elliot snatched his coat and went out to his car to wait. He jerked awake when the door slammed. Toby slapped his hand down on Elliot‛s thigh. ‟Drive fast before you fall asleep again.‟

Elliot did just that. He didn‛t even look at the stairs. ‟My place.‟

‟Okay.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟Let me get a book.‟

Elliot left the door open, took off his clothes one piece at a time, and hit the bed hard. He wasn‛t quite asleep when Toby stroked Elliot‛s hair.

‟Why‛d you think I was angry?‟

Elliot almost pretended to be asleep. The truth wasn‛t easy. ‟Haven‛t seen you for a week.‟

‟So? You were working. I know. I was there.‟ Toby kissed him on the forehead. ‟I‛m not upset with you, never for that.‟

Elliot smiled. He hadn‛t screwed it up. Sleep hit him hard.

*********

Toby raided the fridge and found some leftovers. Elliot would sleep until tomorrow. No reason to order a bunch of food. He was exhausted. Toby had never seen anyone go so long without sleep. It was almost weird. Elliot became totally focused on the job. He didn‛t really eat or make jokes or do anything but work. It didn‛t mean he didn‛t care. He was working. Nothing else. Toby hadn‛t understood the first time he‛d seen it, and he‛d hurt him.

Kathy must have hated that. Her husband just . . . didn‛t come home. How many years had she gone to bed, hoping, and then one day or night, she‛d given up. That had been the beginning of the end. Toby was tempted to pity them both, but Elliot would hate that.

Toby read some of his book before checking on Elliot again. ‟I‛m going home. It‛s nearly curfew.‟

Elliot mumbled something and rolled the other way. Toby shut off the lights and locked the door on his way out. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for him, and he wanted to be prepared. He‛d work until noon, take the afternoon off, and be home by midnight. That was the plan. He was nervous. He‛d admit it. His children were on the line now. Angus was throwing up every roadblock possible, trying to avoid court altogether.

Toby refused to back down. He wasn‛t going to quit. No matter how many times he was called a drunk by his brother. Angus was in the throes of an addiction, and he wasn‛t thinking clearly. Toby had seen it over and over again, and several times in the mirror. He was going to remove his children from that environment. Hadn‛t they been through enough? His mother was completely fed up with Angus and wanted the children out also. She was his best ally.

Toby‛s cell phone rang, and he got it immediately. ‟Hello?‟ He didn‛t recognize the number.

‟Toby, I‛m in trouble,‟ Angus said with a pant in his voice.

‟Angus, you dumb fuck.‟ Toby could believe it, but this was a bad time. It wasn‛t as if he could get in the car and run to help. ‟Where are you?‟

‟Las Vegas.‟

Toby shut his eyes, opened them, and the word still hung in his ears. ‟How much?‟

‟A lot.‟ Angus sounded as if he were crying now. ‟‟This is a rough crowd. I‛m in deep shit.‟

‟Do they have your address?‟ Toby focused on that first.

Angus said nothing. ‟I need you to wire me the money or they‛re going to break my legs.‟

Toby hesitated. ‟And then what will you do? Hit the table again?‟

‟Well, no! Of course not!‟

Toby knew a lie when he heard one. ‟Angus, I‛ve had my legs broken. You‛ll heal.‟

‟You asshole!‟

‟You called Mother. What did she say?‟ Toby had a feeling she‛d turned Angus down.

‟They mean it!‟ Desperation now.

‟Give them your car, or your watch, or something of yours.‟ Toby hated this, but he was doing the right thing even if it hurt. ‟I‛m sending for the children.‟

Angus said nothing for what seemed like forever. ‟Get them out. They know about you.‟

Toby hung up on him. His next call was to his mother. She answered immediately. ‟I‛m packing. The limo is on its way.‟

‟I‛ll meet you at that little rest stop on the New York side.‟ Toby checked his watch. He‛d have to take a chance.

Victoria hung up fast, and Toby called Raphael. If Lennon came over, Toby was screwed. He rubbed his hand through his hair. Munch‛s words came back to him. Oh, fuck. Fuck!

Toby reluctantly called Lennon.

‟No! Stay there. They‛ll get to you. You go off half-cocked there‛s no telling what trouble you‛ll find.‟ Lennon wasn‛t going to say yes - that was clear.

Toby hung up on him. He squeezed the phone, searching for the loophole. His feet were taking him downstairs before he thought it through. ‟Elliot!‟ He pounded on the door.

Elliot yanked it open; his eyes wild and still dressed only in briefs. ‟What?‟ he yelled.

‟I need you to go get my kids. Angus fucked up.‟ Toby tried to keep his cool. ‟Please.‟

Elliot rubbed his face. ‟Where?‟

Toby had never loved Elliot more. ‟Raphael will take you. Dress! Now!‟

Elliot dressed in record time, the gun on his hip reassuring, and Toby shoved him in the limo. ‟Rafe, make sure you‛re not followed.‟

‟Yes, sir.‟

Toby trotted up to his apartment, called his mother, and then Elliot. He didn‛t like what he was doing, but he had exactly no choice. Pacing didn‛t help. The next two hours were going to last forever.

There was a short knock, and Lennon walked in Toby‛s apartment. ‟I‛ll be damned!‟

‟Probably, you fuckwad!‟ Toby nearly threw his phone at him.

Lennon put his hands on his hips. ‟Shut up and settle down. They‛ll get here. Make sure they aren‛t followed and hire some security until Angus shows up - dead or alive. And keep that appointment tomorrow. It‛s going to get you your children.‟

Toby stared for one second in complete shock. ‟You actually give a damn, don‛t you?‟

‟Well, yeah!‟ Lennon looked flustered. ‟I have kids.‟ He snorted. ‟Not that I‛ve seen them lately.‟

‟What security company do you recommend?‟ Toby went to his computer to find their phone number. He still wasn‛t happy with Lennon, but there was a time to set aside grudges, and that time was now.

*********

Elliot was wide awake, for all of five minutes, and then the lull of the limo worked on him. He used the intercom. ‟Rafe, wake me when we get there.‟

‟Will do.‟

Elliot shut his eyes. He refused to worry before he met them. It had to have been only two seconds, and Rafe‛s voice pierced through him. ‟We‛re here.‟

Elliot forced himself to clarity and got out of the limo. Raphael did also. They looked at each other and then at the other cars. ‟No limos,‟ Elliot said. ‟We wait.‟

‟Shouldn‛t be long.‟ Rafe leaned against the driver‛s side car door, and Elliot went to pace on the sidewalk. He opened his cell phone, and it rang.

‟Stabler.‟

‟They‛re about ten minutes away. You?‟ Toby sounded calm, but he had to be on the edge.

‟Waiting. Did you tell her who I am?‟

‟I told her that you‛d have a badge and show it to her,‟ Toby said. ‟I put security around the house in Connecticut, and it‛ll be here by the time you get here.‟

‟Don‛t forget your yacht.‟ Elliot would hate for something to happen to her.

‟Shit.‟ Toby paused. ‟Call me when you‛re on the way.‟

‟Will do.‟ Elliot clicked off. He sincerely hoped this was all precautions and nothing more.

‟I see them!‟ Raphael pointed.

Elliot kept his eyes on the cars that followed them. Nothing. Nothing. He flashed his badge to Mrs. Beecher. She looked harried and tired, but resolute. Raphael got them inside, and Elliot saw that they were out of time. ‟Rafe! We got a tail.‟

‟Shit!‟ Rafe didn‛t even look. Elliot wasn‛t sure how much they‛d seen, but they weren‛t fools. He got in fast.

‟Get on the floor.‟ He encouraged them down. Holly and Harry were whiter than white, and Mrs. Beecher covered them. Rafe pulled out fast, but Elliot heard the pops of gunfire. He knocked on the glass, Rafe lowered it, and he crawled through. ‟Stay down!‟

‟We‛re fucked,‟ Rafe said calmly. ‟I can‛t shake them in this tub.‟

Elliot ran through the options. He hadn‛t expected them to open fire. They meant business, and whether they were trying to kill or simply intimidate was open to interpretation. ‟We need backup, and I mean fast backup.‟

Rafe suddenly grinned, and Elliot matched it.

********

Toby remembered so clearly that moment before Schillinger had broken him. Fear. Such fear. And it was nothing compared to this. Nothing. He wanted to rock and moan, but he paced and cursed.

His phone rang, and he wrenched it open. ‟What?‟

‟I got the car. I‛m going.‟

‟Get your bar mitzvahed butt moving!‟ Toby snapped. He shut his phone. Trusting Elliot was easy. Trusting Raphael, Elliot, and Munch was very, very hard. One fuck up and his kids were dead.

‟Take it easy, Beecher.‟ Lennon still hadn‛t left. ‟It‛s good news.‟

‟What the fuck are you talking about?‟ Toby didn‛t understand. There was nothing good about this situation.

Lennon nodded. ‟They should have come right here, but they‛re following them. Your brother didn‛t give up your address.‟

‟Shit,‟ Toby breathed. ‟You‛re right. It is possible that he didn‛t know it.‟

‟Not damn likely.‟ Lennon went towards the door. ‟Let‛s go wait downstairs.‟

Toby was right behind him. ‟Lennon, I take back all that stuff I said about you and your ancestors.‟

‟Ah hell, it was probably true. I am an asshole.‟ Lennon grinned. ‟What‛s the ETA on the security people?‟

‟Twenty minutes. They‛ll make it.‟ Toby hoped. He prayed, and then he prayed some more.

********

Elliot crawled back through and gathered the children into his arms. ‟Holly and Harry, I need you to be very brave.‟

They nodded, so serious. Mrs. Beecher clutched her purse, but said nothing.

‟When the limo stops, I‛m going to open this door. Run for the blue SuperSport, okay? Keep low but run. Get in, hit the floor and don‛t look up for anything.‟ Elliot hugged them. ‟Can you do it?‟

‟Yes,‟ Harry said. Holly nodded and hugged her grandmother.

‟I know you‛re scared, but we can do this.‟ Elliot had to believe it. ‟Rafe! You‛ll be ready!‟

‟Make sure that cop is ready!‟

Elliot called Munch again. They were set. Mrs. Beecher‛s eyes were wide, and Elliot tried one more time. ‟You‛re sure, Mrs. Beecher?‟

‟I am.‟ She nodded firmly. ‟I‛ll only slow you down.‟

Elliot admired her tremendously.

‟I see him!‟ Raphael would pull up very close. Elliot opened the door, but didn‛t push it. He waited and then waited one more second.

‟Run!‟ He was out and covering them. The Crown Victoria pulled up fast, and Elliot fired twice at the front tires before diving in the back. ‟Hit it!‟

The SuperSport did what it did best. It took off. Elliot crouched over the kids. He spared a look back for the limo, but Munch and Mrs. Beecher were forgotten, and the Crown Vic was after the SuperSport now.

‟Rafe, do what you have to.‟ Elliot hoped they were stopped, but there was never a cop around when he needed one. The car surged, slid, surged, and practically flew. Elliot kept the kids down, wishing he could buckle them.

‟I lost them. We‛re almost there. Get them out, and I‛ll scoot. Tell that cop I want my limo back in one piece!‟ Raphael was flying high, his eyes bright.

Elliot got them up and ready again. When Raphael slammed on the brakes, Elliot opened the front door, pushed them out, and Toby and Lennon were there to scoop them up. By the time they made it in the front door, Raphael was long gone in a squeal of tires. Elliot took a deep breath and put his gun away. He called Munch before taking one more step.

‟Tell her we‛re home and fine.‟

‟Will do. I‛m going back to the limo company, just to be safe, and then I‛ll bring her there in my car. She‛s hanging tough,‟ Munch said calmly. ‟We sport a few bullet holes though.‟

‟Thanks, Munch.‟ Elliot clicked off. He nodded to the security guys and went upstairs. When he ran out of adrenaline, he was going to sleep forever.

Lennon met him in the hallway. ‟Elliot, you stupid fuck. Why didn‛t you just get some units?‟

Elliot stopped. His mouth opened. He shut it. ‟I‛ve had three hours of sleep in three days.‟

‟Idiot.‟ Lennon shook his head. ‟Was it fun?‟

‟No, but I got a plate number.‟ Elliot put his cell phone to good use now. They might get lucky and catch them. He slapped his own face. Stupid. Stupid. Of course, one black and white might have forced the Vegas boys to pull up alongside and blast them. They‛d been content to follow. He shrugged. It was done. No one was dead, thank God.

Lennon slapped him on the back. ‟I‛m going home. Don‛t call me.‟

‟Is he still going to Connecticut?‟ Elliot hoped not.

‟He has to.‟ Lennon shrugged. ‟Go with him. Okay?‟

‟Damn babysitter, that‛s all I am.‟ Elliot frowned for effect and went inside Toby‛s apartment. Toby‛s eyes immediately found him. Holly and Harry held Toby close, and Elliot smiled to see it.

‟Thanks, Elliot,‟ Toby said softly. His face was streaked with tears.

Elliot nodded. He hadn‛t done it the smartest way, but they were safe. ‟My pleasure, Toby.‟

********

Toby gave his mother his bed, and the kids piled together in the spare bedroom. Elliot had sat down on the couch, and by the time Toby got to him, he was asleep. Toby smiled and lifted him enough that he had a pillow - Toby‛s lap.

‟Damn, I‛m tired,‟ Elliot said quietly.

‟I feel like a truck hit me.‟ Toby leaned his head back. So many emotions were running through him, that he felt as if he might burst. He struggled to push it all away to a safe distance. Everything would work out, and he‛d deal with it, and he wouldn‛t drink. ‟Is my car full of bullet holes?‟

‟Ask Rafe, and I‛d say he earned a raise.‟ Elliot didn‛t open his eyes. Toby put his arm across Elliot and they held hands loosely. ‟Your mother didn‛t bat an eye when she saw me.‟

‟I told her. My mother loves me. I‛d almost forgotten, but she forcibly reminded me.‟ Toby checked the time. ‟I have to go to work in about two hours.‟

‟Not an option.‟ Elliot was serious. ‟When are we leaving for Connecticut?‟

‟About noon. Raphael is bringing the limo, not Old Blue.‟ Toby shut his eyes, but his cell phone rang, and he got it fast. ‟Hello?‟

‟This is Captain Cragen. Is everything all right there?‟

‟Yes,‟ Toby sat up a little and tried to sound awake. ‟It was touch and go, but they‛re safe.‟

‟Put Elliot on.‟

Toby handed it over. They both heard, ‟Charge your damn phone, Elliot!‟

‟Okay.‟ Elliot dug it out. ‟Sorry, it must have gotten turned off in the excitement.‟

‟They picked them up. I need you down here to make a report. Now.‟

Toby could hear Cragen clearly. Shit.

‟And tell Toby he can have today off.‟ Cragen hung up on them.

Elliot groaned. ‟Shoot me. Just. Shoot. Me.‟

Toby laughed softly and pulled him up enough to kiss him. ‟Damn, I love you.‟

‟You better.‟ Elliot didn‛t move right away. ‟I‛ll take a cab, but send Rafe to get me.‟

‟Will do. I hope he gets some sleep, since we aren‛t.‟ Toby pushed him, not much, but a nudge. ‟I can‛t ever thank you enough.‟

Elliot got up, kissed him, and stretched. ‟My birthday‛s coming. Buy me something pretty.‟

Toby caught him in a hug. He might just do that. Elliot left before Cragen called again, and Toby curled up on the sofa. Some sleep would be nice, but he set his cell phone alarm for eleven. There was a lot to accomplish today. He must have slept, but he woke up instantly when a small body pressed into his.

‟Holly, my sweet girl,‟ he murmured and held her close. ‟You were so brave.‟

‟It was scary, and Elliot fired his gun, and that car. Wow! It was fast. Is that your car?‟ Holly blurted it all out at once.

‟Sorta.‟ Toby kissed her on the forehead. ‟You‛re safe. I promise.‟

She hugged him. ‟I‛ve missed you.‟

Toby didn‛t want to cry again, and he forced the tears away. ‟Was Angus good to you?‟

‟He was never around.‟ Holly shrugged. ‟But he‛s my uncle, and I love him.‟

Harry came tumbling out of bed next, and he was much more exuberant. ‟Wow, you should have seen it. Guns! Cars! Policemen!‟

‟I‛m glad I missed it. I might have died from fright.‟ Toby hugged him. ‟You‛re okay?‟

‟Sure. I was brave. Elliot said so.‟ Harry sat down next to him. ‟Is Uncle Angus going to be okay?‟

‟I hope so.‟ Toby worried about that, but they would get a call - one way or the other. ‟Harry and Holly, would you mind living with me now?‟

Harry swallowed hard. ‟Are you going to be a real dad?‟

Toby prayed so. ‟Is it okay if I work?‟

‟All dads work!‟ Holly smiled.

Harry nodded. ‟Grandpa used to play ball with me and take me to the park and all kinds of stuff. Uncle Angus never did anything but complain.‟

Toby had no idea how to defend his brother. ‟I‛ll do my best, Harry and Holly. I love you. Can that be a start?‟

They both smiled at him. It was beautiful. A knot deep inside Toby‛s soul loosened and he felt ten years younger. ‟Let‛s have breakfast.‟

‟I‛m hungry,‟ Harry grumbled. Holly nodded, and they went to raid the fridge. Toby saw nothing wrong with pizza for breakfast. His kids didn‛t either.

‟I wanted to come live with you from the first, but Uncle Angus said you were probably drunk, and I was scared.‟ Holly furrowed her pretty brow. ‟Grandma said to be patient. It was hard.‟

‟It sure was,‟ Toby said. He made a note to break whatever limbs the loan sharks missed.

Harry wiped his mouth. ‟I knew you weren‛t a drunk! Girls are stupid.‟ He rolled his eyes. ‟Uncle Angus told me that you were going right back to prison, so I shouldn‛t get attached. Is that true?‟

‟No. That guy with the beard last night?‟ They both nodded at him. ‟He‛s in charge of keeping me out, and he‛s very good at his job.‟

They both sighed with relief. Toby hugged them again. ‟Don‛t worry about that. Okay, keep eating. I gotta take a shower. I have an appointment today.‟

Harry eyed the computer, and Holly shrugged. Toby took a fast shower and snuck in his room to change. His mother was still asleep, and she needed it after last night. He wouldn‛t wake her until the last minute. Dressed and feeling pretty good, he stepped out to check with security. They‛d be bringing the luggage from the other limo today. They also had bad news.

‟You‛re sure?‟ Toby wanted to curse. ‟How bad is it?‟

‟We don‛t know,‟ the big, brawny guy said. They were all brawny. ‟We‛ll get a full report later.‟

‟Okay. Call me. I‛ll be out this afternoon and evening. Keep everyone here. I‛ll be with a cop.‟

They actually rolled their eyes as if cops were idiots. Toby liked them much more after seeing that. He called Raphael and sent him to get Elliot.

‟How‛s my car?‟

‟Not a scratch on her!‟ Rafe laughed. ‟But the limo, hombre, your bill is gonna be huge!‟

‟Shit.‟ Toby almost laughed, but it wasn‛t funny. ‟Get moving and you‛ll get your raise.‟ He hung up and went back inside to be with his kids until the last possible second. His mother was up. She held him tightly, and he was glad. ‟Love you, Mother.‟

She kissed him on the cheek. ‟I never doubted it. Do what you have to today. The kids and I will be fine. I‛ll call their school.‟

Toby had forgotten about that. He was already failing as a father. ‟Thanks. I‛m going to need help. Lots of it.‟

‟I know.‟ She didn‛t pull her punches. ‟Stay in contact with me today. Keep me up to speed on Angus, and thank Elliot.‟

‟He‛ll be here in a minute. You can thank him.‟ Toby smiled. ‟What a mess.‟

Victoria‛s eyes were on Toby‛s children. ‟We have to persevere because we certainly aren‛t lucky!‟

Toby nearly winced at that bit of wisdom. ‟It‛s bound to change.‟

‟I‛m not going to hold my breath.‟ Victoria started in on Toby‛s kitchen, and Toby got the door. It was Elliot. He yawned. Toby pulled him inside.

‟Say hello.‟

Holly and Harry came over. Elliot smiled and ruffled their hair. Toby gave them a hug. ‟Be nice to Grandma. She‛s tired, and don‛t leave the building for any reason.‟

‟Tobias, there are barely any groceries!‟

Toby nearly punched Elliot when he smirked. ‟Okay. Well, let me think.‟ He pulled out his cell phone and gave his mother a number. ‟The grocery store delivers. Order whatever you want.‟

‟I will.‟ She had that look on her face that said a lot about single men. Toby kissed her goodbye.

‟Thank you, Elliot.‟ Victoria smiled. ‟Our family owes you a debt of gratitude.‟

Elliot raised his eyebrows. ‟Toby paid in advance. And you‛re welcome. We‛ll be careful.‟

Toby got out of there before he got weepy again. He glared at the security detail. ‟No mistakes. Not one!‟

They all nodded. Elliot pulled him along, and they were climbing in the limo. Toby fished a soda out of the fridge and by the time he was settled, Elliot was asleep. Typical. Toby laughed.

*********

Elliot realized that he‛d failed miserably as a bodyguard when the door slammed. He woke up fast, his hand going to his gun, but he flopped back when he saw Toby‛s grin. ‟What‛s going on?‟

Toby put a couple of bags of food between them. ‟Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to get a limo through the drive-thru?‟

Elliot rubbed his face. ‟Stressed out, huh?‟

Toby started digging in the bags. ‟Yes, but it‛s mostly good news. I was granted temporary custody, pending a hearing.‟

‟Good.‟ Elliot‛s brain seemed to click on. ‟What time is it?‟

Toby laughed. ‟About seven.‟ He leaned, and Elliot kissed him. ‟It was boring lawyer stuff. You were better off asleep.‟

Elliot groaned. ‟Damn, I‛m such a loser.‟

‟Oh, shut up.‟ Toby frowned at him. ‟You are not. You were exhausted from saving my family from kidnapping or death. Give it a rest.‟

Elliot took the burger offered. ‟I think I slept long enough, but I get your point. No trouble?‟

‟None. Angus is still missing in action. When we get home, I‛ll start calling hospitals in Vegas.‟ Toby sighed. ‟I received a full report from the security company.‟

‟What‛s the damage?‟ Elliot knew there was some. He snagged a milkshake and some fries. His stomach growled and he was completely awake now.

Toby ate half his burger before answering. ‟They stole the SUV, the Benz, burned the lake house to the ground, and trashed the Lady Guinevere.‟

‟Not the yacht!‟ Elliot put his burger down. ‟Shit!‟

‟I didn‛t realize that you were so attached. The harbor master kept them from sinking her, but she‛s not in a good way.‟ Toby sighed. ‟Maybe I should sell her for scrap.‟

Elliot was also surprised at his visceral reaction. He loved that boat, and it worried him. ‟I have some savings. I could help out.‟ He wanted the words back instantly. Wealthy Toby didn‛t need poor Elliot‛s money, but Toby didn‛t even crack a joke. Elliot ate some more while he watched Toby think. ‟We headed home?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby continued to eat. ‟I was going to work tomorrow, but that‛s not possible now, and I‛m afraid Father Michael is going to be disappointed come Sunday.‟

‟One step at a time. Find your brother. Make sure your kids are okay.‟ Elliot laced his fingers through Toby‛s and squeezed. ‟I‛ll call Munch and have him check with the Las Vegas police.‟

Toby shook his head. ‟I owe you guys too much already. Munch took a huge risk for me last night.‟

Elliot didn‛t think Toby understood how things stood. ‟Tobias, you work for us, and we protect our own. You‛ve helped us find the perp, done our fives, and lied to Cragen for us. And once, I‛m certain I saw you with Munch‛s drycleaning.‟

‟He had a date and got tied up at a crime scene.‟ Toby frowned. ‟It‛s all a bunch of nothing.‟

‟Not to us.‟ Elliot pulled his hand away and tapped Toby on the forehead. ‟Not to us.‟

Toby looked away and then back. ‟Minimum wage?‟

Elliot laughed. He started eating again. When his food was gone, he called the precinct. Fin was glad to help out, and Toby seemed to smile from relief. Elliot opened the fridge and found a coke. He was thirsty. ‟Your kids are very brave.‟

‟I still want to throw up when I think of what happened last night.‟ Toby collected the trash and tossed it. He scooted over, and Elliot put his arm around him. ‟Anything you want, ever, you just ask. I‛ll do it.‟

A couple of things popped right into Elliot‛s mind, but he wasn‛t that kind of man. He had to make a joke. ‟Tiffany‛s, here we come!‟

Toby did laugh. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‟What did Kathy say?‟

Elliot smiled. ‟She said, and I quote, ‛I don‛t know who you took a bribe from to afford this, but I don‛t care, and it‛s about damn time!‛‟

‟In the immortal words of Munch, ‛Oy vey.‛‟ Toby relaxed against him. ‟Women.‟

Elliot agreed. He got comfortable against Toby and he didn‛t worry about whether Raphael was smirking. Toby‛s life was much more complicated now, and Elliot could only hope that they would find a way to make time for each other. Not often, but occasionally, it was all he‛d ask for.

********

Toby went straight up the stairs, and he didn‛t turn loose of Elliot‛s hand.

‟Hey, Toby, um, you sure about this?‟

‟Don‛t even think you‛re getting away. We still have to find my brother.‟ Toby made sure he had a good grip on Elliot‛s hand. ‟And there‛s no telling what my mother has done to my life.‟

Elliot bit his lip. Toby nearly kissed it, but held back. Elliot started again, ‟When you said she knew, did you mean that she knows?‟

Toby stopped. He nearly laughed, but he could see Elliot was really worried. ‟I told her we were best friends. And then I waggled my eyebrows suggestively.‟

‟You did not,‟ Elliot hissed. His eyebrows were lowered into that mean look that worked so well on perps.

‟Okay, not the second half.‟ Toby had to reassure himself that his kids were fine. He let him go and went the last distance to the door. ‟I think you‛re ready.‟

‟Not damn likely,‟ Elliot grumbled, but he caught up with him. Toby went inside and smiled at his children. They were so damn beautiful. And they were happy to see him. His mother looked approvingly at him, and Elliot was behind him. Toby laughed. He had so much today.

‟I spoke to the building manager.‟

Toby heard the small snort behind him. Elliot was trying not to laugh. Jerk. Toby smiled. ‟What did you decide, Mother?‟

‟I like this apartment very much. I‛m going to keep it. You and the children are relocating downstairs.‟ Victoria smiled. Toby did love her. ‟The movers are coming Tuesday.‟

‟What about the house?‛ Toby was stunned. He hadn‛t considered that, and she was taking his apartment! ‟Your house?‟

‟I‛m tired of it. I‛m too young to rust in Connecticut.‟ She went to the kitchen area. ‟Iced tea?‟

Elliot stepped around Toby. ‟Please. This building is very safe.‟

She handed him a glass and nodded. ‟I spoke to the head of security regarding it. Now, Toby, you put your children to bed. Don‛t worry. They‛ll show you how, and Elliot, let‛s start looking for my youngest son.‟

Toby did take the time to drop his coat on the sofa. Holly and Harry were grinning. They knew the score, and he did too. Damn, it was nice to be home.

He lingered over story and tucking. They didn‛t complain, and he hoped they didn‛t need therapy. Maybe he could get the family rate.

‟Will you guys help me decorate the new apartment?‟

They laughed and smiled. Enthusiastic. It was possible they needed a new start, and he was going to give them everything they wanted but not too much. And he was sure his mother would have plenty to say about it all.

Elliot and Victoria were working the phones and the computer, and Toby joined the hunt, but it was Fin that found him. Toby put him on speaker phone.

‟Black eye, broken arm, broken leg, concussion.‟ Fin paused. ‟He had no I.D. That‛s why it took so long to track him down.‟

‟Is he conscious?‟ Toby asked. He wished his mother‛s face was less ashen.

‟Not yet.‟ Fin shuffled some papers. ‟I got nothing else.‟

Toby thank him, clicked off, and looked at his mother. ‟What shall I do, Mother?‟

She sighed. ‟I‛ll send Aunt Frieda.‟

Toby shut his mouth and then smoothed his hand across it to make sure he didn‛t grin. ‟That‛s almost cruel.‟

‟He needs a dose of reality, and she‛ll love delivering it.‟ Victoria opened her phone. ‟Tobias, walk Elliot to his apartment. Don‛t hurry back. I‛m going to take a shower after this phone call.‟

‟I do have curfew.‟ Toby felt six years old again, but he was going to let his mother deal with her other son. She knew what she was doing. Elliot beat it out the door, and Toby was right behind him.

‟I‛m sorry, Toby. I have to laugh.‟ Elliot let it out. Toby dragged him downstairs, away from the sharp ears of his mother. Elliot shut the door behind them and pulled him close. ‟Okay. I‛m done.‟

Toby kissed him. ‟Jerk. I noticed you followed her orders.‟

‟Who wouldn‛t? So, you‛re moving again.‟

Toby grinned. ‟Looks that way. I can‛t believe she wants to live here, and she‛ll organize more movers than you‛ve ever seen. It‛s gonna be ugly. Hide.‟

Elliot kissed him back. ‟You gotta get those kids in school.‟

Toby knew that. He had a list of things to do longer than his arm. But right now he had a spare minute. He reached behind him, threw the lock, and dropped to his knees. Elliot let out a very satisfying noise, and Toby made fast work of the jeans.

‟Geez,‟ Elliot whispered.

‟Hold me.‟ Toby needed Elliot‛s hands on him. He groaned when Elliot slipped his hand through Toby‛s hair and kept it there. Giving him this pleasure made Toby‛s head spin. The smell, the taste, the gentle pressure; it was intoxicating. No. It was better than that. He went deeper, working his hand with his mouth. Elliot rumbled - that was the best way to describe it - and orgasmed. Toby used his tongue to drive him crazy, flicking it against his sensitive slit.

‟Okay! Enough!‟ Elliot pulled him up. ‟My turn.‟

Toby gasped when Elliot pushed him back against the door. ‟Assume the position?‟

‟Maybe next time.‟ Elliot grinned. He fixed his jeans and went to his knees. Toby nearly came right then and there. He leaned his head back and tried not to clutch at him. Elliot had a talented tongue, and he liked to wiggle it - probably all that practice sucking on straws.

‟Fuck,‟ Toby breathed out the word. His breath just stopped, tingles broke out all over him, and his skin felt too tight. He was going to fall over dead. Elliot managed a twisting motion, and Toby grabbed him by the shoulders. ‟That should be against the law,‟ he whispered.

Elliot gave a final lick and came up him to kiss him deep and hard. Toby sagged. He needed CPR - fast. Elliot nuzzled him. ‟Let‛s watch the news.‟

Toby laughed. ‟I love you. You‛re so . . . stable.‟

‟I‛m nuts. Ask anyone that‛s reviewed my pysch file.‟ Elliot helped him to the couch. Toby tucked everything away. He sighed deeply. Elliot chuckled. ‟That may have to hold us for a while. I think your mother has plans for you.‟

‟Most likely. I can always meet you at the hot dog stand.‟ Toby arranged himself so that he was touching as much of Elliot as possible without being in his lap. Things might get confusing, but he‛d make time for Elliot. It was all in the scheduling. He smiled and watched the news.

********

Elliot pressed his shoulders into the stone and smiled. He had to see this, and then he‛d go back to work. Admitting he was nosy was easy.

‟Thank you, Father Michael, for looking after my Tobias,‟ Victoria said.

Toby practically rolled his eyes, and it was funny. Father Michael beamed. ‟He‛s a big help around here. I was saying just yesterday that he‛s here more than some of our parishioners!‟

Victoria smiled. She was in her element. ‟I think he finally came back to where he belongs. It took some years, but God works in mysterious ways.‟

Elliot frowned. What was she saying? Toby frowned too. ‟Explain that, Mother.‟

‟You know how these things are, Father. I‛m Catholic, but my husband was Episcopalian.‟ Victoria plowed on, full of steam now, ‟Tobias was baptized in the Catholic church, but by then his father was moving up in the world, and he insisted we would raise the boys in his religion.‟

Father Michael grinned. It was a big one. He stuck out his hand. ‟Welcome home, Tobias.‟

Toby blushed beet red. Elliot covered a laugh and slipped away. Toby was in trouble down in the kitchen, that was for sure. Elliot waited until he was in the freezer to sit down and laugh about it. He jumped in guilt when the door yanked open. Toby stalked inside. ‟Laughing at me?‟

‟Maybe. Just a little.‟ Elliot laughed some more, but he had to stop. Toby was going to hit him with a head of lettuce. The box was close and open.

‟I‛m Catholic! This is awful!‟ Toby threw up his hands.

Elliot went to him, kissed that pouting mouth, and grinned. ‟But I can marry you now.‟ He got out of the freezer fast. A head of lettuce bounced off his back, and he went to help Louise. She‛d want to hear this gossip.

*********

Toby tried not to stare longingly at Elliot. It was hard. He was so close, and Toby was more than willing to lean over the desk naked for an hour or two. Shit. He wrenched his mind from the gutter and decided to do what he did best. He‛d throw money at the problem. It might take some planning, but he was good at that.

‟Beecher! My office!‟

Toby‛s pencil flew in the air. ‟Coming,‟ he muttered. He had to focus on stuff that wouldn‛t make his pants tent.

Elliot was looking at him. ‟Busted.‟

‟I haven‛t done anything!‟ Toby had to add a caveat. ‟Lately.‟

‟Like I said.‟

Toby groaned and went in Cragen‛s office. Novak was in there. He sat down and crossed his legs, trying to look composed, even calm. ‟Can I help you?‟

Cragen pointed at Novak. ‟Tobias, I want you to work for me. Full-time. A salaried position with benefits.‟ She put a folder in his hands and smiled.

Toby looked at Cragen. ‟My job has been terminated, hasn‛t it?‟

Cragen cleared his throat. ‟Your nine months is up. The brass doesn‛t want to show favoritism. The other captains grumble.‟

Toby opened the file and scanned it quickly. He was being fired, and he wanted to kick Judge Allen‛s ass. Nine months hadn‛t been near long enough. He sighed softly. He‛d never thought that he‛d feel this way. ‟I like working here.‟

Cragen and Novak exchanged a look that said they doubted Toby‛s sanity. Toby shrugged. ‟I‛ll look it over and get back to you. When‛s my last day, Captain?‟

‟Today.‟

Toby nodded and went back to his desk without a further word. He tugged out his calendar and checked. He‛d lost track.

‟Time served, huh?‟

‟Apparently so.‟ Toby had this ache in the pit of his stomach. It had gone so fast. He wasn‛t sure what to think or feel, and he looked up at Elliot‛s face. ‟Never thought I‛d be sad.‟

Elliot shrugged. ‟Don‛t cry. The guys will never let you forget it.‟

Toby was glad he had Elliot to anchor him to reality. ‟You guys will be crying tomorrow when you have to make your own coffee.‟

Elliot nodded. ‟You are so right.‟ He wandered back to his desk. Toby flipped through the offer. It was standard stuff. Sixty thousand a year for a researcher wasn‛t good money, but it was all the state had. It was a lot more than the sixteen thousand he was making at minimum. Money, however, wasn‛t everything.

Novak gave him a bright smile. ‟I hope we can come to an agreement. I look forward-‟

‟To piling my desk high with cases?‟ Toby interrupted, but not rudely.

She blinked. ‟Well, yes.‟

Toby saw that half the squad was watching. He didn‛t let that stop him. ‟What about these guys? This is your squad. My job facilitates them. Sure, I don‛t make anything, but shouldn‛t that count for something?‟

Novak looked stunned. ‟The squad?‟

‟Yes. Elliot, and John, and even Benson. They work for you. Aren‛t they important?‟ Toby spread his hands and tried to sound firm. ‟I make their job easier. In nine months, we‛ve cleared more cases on average and upped your win ratio. We‛ve had less turnover than in previous years, and Cragen is no longer drowning in paperwork, most of which is produced by your office.‟

‟It‛s your last day here,‟ Novak said softly. ‟I‛m not responsible for the precinct‛s staff.‟

Toby eased to his feet. ‟You‛re not? Not at all? So, if Elliot quits, you‛re good with that? And when Cragen dies from a heart attack from the stress of filling out more forms? You‛re not responsible?‟

Novak turned an interesting color. ‟That‛s not what I meant.‟

‟Cragen doesn‛t get to pick his A.D.A., does he?‟ Toby knew the answer. ‟You‛re the boss. We jump when you tell us to, and you‛re not responsible?‟

‟I am. I care. But the brass retains control over who works in this unit.‟

Toby was sure that was true, but she still didn‛t do enough. He gave her a tiny smile. ‟I‛ll consider your offer. Thank you.‟

Novak made her high heels stomp, and Toby leaned back in his chair. He pulled the straw from his soda and stuck it in his mouth. Chewing it might reduce his frustration. Maybe Elliot was on to something.

‟You got balls, Beech.‟ Munch put his hip on the corner of Toby‛s desk. ‟But you‛re knocking your head against a brick wall.‟

Toby nodded. ‟I did that once or twice when I was thrown in the hole at Oz.‟

‟A good, Catholic boy like you?‟ Munch grinned.

Toby groaned. ‟I‛m gonna kick Elliot‛s ass.‟

‟Better eat yer Wheaties,‟ Fin said as he passed by. Munch laughed and went away. Toby threw his straw down. It wasn‛t helping. He was going to have to change the system. That was never easy. And he was still horny.

‟Beecher, you got a call on line one. It‛s someone from Oz!‟

Toby waved to the detective that had answered the phone and picked it up. ‟This is Toby Beecher.‟

‟Beechball!‟ O‛Reily, again.

‟Hey, O‛Reily.‟ Toby felt as if all eyes were on him. ‟How‛s Oz?‟

‟Same old cells.‟ O‛Reily laughed. ‟I need a favor, and I‛m thinking you owe me one.‟

Toby switched the phone to his other ear. ‟I don‛t owe you shit. I was nearly killed over the last favor. We‛re square.‟

O‛Reily stopped laughing. ‟I own you, Beecher.‟

‟My kids own me, Ryan. Tell Gloria hello, and for fuck‛s sake, stay out of trouble.‟ Toby hung up the phone. He didn‛t even want to know what the favor was.

Elliot‛s voice was very soft at Toby‛s ear. ‟I own you.‟

Toby laughed and threw his pencil at him as he walked off. Those three little words had done nothing to tone down his groin. He was fired, horny, and he‛d pissed off O‛Reily. This was not a good day. When it ended, he turned off his computer for the last time and tried to remember if there was anything in his locker. He hadn‛t had time to lift weights in months.

‟Thanks for all your help, Toby,‟ Cragen said.

Toby got to his feet quickly. ‟It was a pleasure. Usually.‟ He smiled, and they shook hands. ‟I had fun.‟

Cragen looked skeptical. ‟I doubt it. Get out of here.‟

‟Yes, sir.‟ Toby collected a few odds and ends. Elliot was nowhere around, and Toby was strangely glad. It made it easier to walk out the door.

‟Toby! Judge Allen wants you in chambers. Now.‟ Munch put down the phone.

‟Thanks!‟ Toby picked up the file from Novak, his coat, and went. He didn‛t want to keep the judge waiting. That was never a good idea. The secretary took him in immediately, and the judge waved his hand at a chair.

‟How was it?‟

Toby measured his answer. ‟Painful at times, but overall, it was rewarding.‟

Allen nodded. ‟I‛m glad to hear it. How much longer do you have on parole?‟

‟A year and two months.‟ Toby didn‛t have to look at a calendar to know that.

‟I‛m recommending it be set aside. I fully expect that it will be.‟ Allen raised his eyebrows. ‟Are you taking the job with A.D.A. Novak?‟

Toby tried to think. His brain had stalled at the parole part of the conversation. He took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. ‟Thank you, sir. And, well, I‛m not sure.‟

‟What would convince you?‟ Allen leaned back.

‟I‛m not sure. These precinct captains need assistants. They have crappy jobs as it is, and they need help. Cragen‛s unit doesn‛t even have a janitor.‟ Toby was trying to think on his feet, and his brain kept shouting hurrah. ‟I enjoy doing the research, but Novak has a lot more people helping her than SVU does.‟

‟That‛s a good point.‟ Allen frowned. ‟What‛s your solution?‟

Toby took a minute. ‟Novak should hire someone to look after her unit and help her out. It‛d be a shit job, but money is a great incentive.‟

‟How much per year?‟

‟At least forty grand, maybe fifty.‟ Toby thought some more. ‟It‛d be a good job for disbarred lawyers such as myself or college kids trying to work their way through law school.‟

Allen steepled his hands. ‟I agree. Do you think you could find someone to give us a grant? Get the ball rolling?‟

Toby blinked. He‛d been blindsided by that. ‟You‛re crafty. I like that about you.‟

‟And?‟

‟I‛ll work on it. It‛s not like I have a job.‟ Toby rubbed his hand through his hair. He owed it to them, and it couldn‛t hurt to try.

Allen smiled. ‟See what you can come up with. My door is always open.‟

‟Thank you, Judge. I can‛t say that I didn‛t want to egg your house a couple of times, but in the end, it was a good thing.‟ Toby got to his feet. ‟I‛ll be in touch.‟

‟Do that.‟ Allen picked up his pen and chuckled. Toby went out and stopped at the drinking fountain. It was a lot to think about, but Cragen and the other captains needed assistants. Other precincts must have help. Was it only Manhattan that got bent over? He had to do some research, and then he‛d find the best way to change the system.

‟Hey, Beecher!‟

Toby turned and smiled. He waited patiently. ‟Too late, Stabler. You‛re not going to fuck me over this time.‟

Elliot took him by the arm and led him to an alcove. ‟Don‛t talk like that. I‛m getting a hard one.‟

‟Join the club.‟ Toby smiled. ‟Going home?‟

‟Nah. Gotta work late. See ya soon?‟ Elliot didn‛t touch him, but they were close.

‟Count on it.‟ Toby wanted to kiss him, but didn‛t. ‟Don‛t work too hard.‟

Elliot snorted, and Toby left him there. It wasn‛t easy to walk away. He gripped the file tightly and went home to his children. There was a lot to do.

*********

‟The place is dull without Toby to beat on,‟ Munch said. He sipped the coffee and made a face. ‟Elliot, don‛t make the coffee again.‟

Elliot grinned. ‟You could do some filing.‟

‟So could you.‟ Munch didn‛t move toward the cabinets. ‟Someone made a large donation to the shul in my name. Got any guesses as to who it was?‟

Elliot didn‛t smile. ‟Someone who likes you?‟

‟People like me? Damn. I‛m slipping in my old age.‟ Munch look disgusted. ‟Fin, do you like me?‟

‟Hell, no.‟

Benson snorted. ‟Don‛t ask me that, and I don‛t miss Beecher.‟

‟Those earrings are very pretty on you,‟ Munch said.

Elliot went to get a soda, laughing softly. He missed him. They had barely spoken in three weeks and four days. Sundays were about it, and Toby‛s kids were always around. Elliot sighed. Their eyes said things, but there was no time left - no time at all.

********  
Chapter Twelve - Love never fails. 1 Corinthians 1:8

Toby walked past Elliot without a look. It was fun to tease him that way.

‟The wastrel son returns,‟ Munch drawled.

Toby didn‛t answer, knocked on Cragen‛s door, waited for the okay, and went inside. ‟Hey, Cap.‟

Cragen got up and shook Toby‛s hand. ‟You‛ve been causing trouble all over One Police Plaza!‟

‟Good times.‟ Toby laughed and sat down. ‟What‛s the gossip? Do I dare piss in the locker room?‟

‟This building should be safe,‟ Cragen said with a smile. ‟There was talk that you had an ax to grind, but that faded away and they thought that I had sent you to cause problems!‟

Toby shook his head in disgust. ‟Did you get jammed up?‟

‟Nah. The brass knew better.‟ Cragen pointed at his computer. ‟It hasn‛t worked right since you left.‟

‟It misses me.‟ Toby was glad someone had missed him. ‟Did you get the memo this morning?‟

Cragen‛s eyebrows went up. ‟Email or actual mail?‟

Toby sighed. This place was already a wreck. He opened his briefcase and handed a copy over. Cragen took it fast, and his frown slowly broke out in a smile. ‟You did this?‟

‟Judge Allen made me. I don‛t like you guys one bit, but I wanted off parole,‟ Toby lied shamelessly. ‟That‛s the official story. Okay?‟

‟Got it.‟ Cragen nodded, but his eyes didn‛t leave the memo. ‟So, why are you here?‟

‟To apply for the job, of course. My kids think I should have one. Nine to five - regular hours and no overtime or weekends - ever.‟ Toby didn‛t smile. He meant that last part. His mother had made it clear that she had her own life now, and they were his children. She was willing to watch them from three to five, but not one minute longer.

‟Can you start Monday?‟ Cragen put the paper down.

‟I‛ll be here.‟ Toby felt something inside him relax. He‛d wanted this job. ‟Novak won‛t mind?‟

‟She doesn‛t hire people in my unit.‟ Cragen‛s eyes were sharp. ‟I might let you do research for her or I might not. It‛s stated very clearly here that it‛s at my discretion.‟

Toby had insisted on that wording, and his last words with Novak hadn‛t exactly been friendly. Well, he‛d deal with it. ‟It‛s good to be back.‟

‟I‛ll sleep better this weekend knowing that the filing will get done.‟ Cragen stood and stuck out his hand. ‟Let‛s hope things go smoother this time.‟

Toby stood and shook Cragen‛s hand firmly. ‟I didn‛t cause trouble!‟

‟Right. Out. Be on time.‟ Cragen turned away. Toby went out smiling. He stopped when at least three sets of eyes were on him, and Benson was trying not to stare. He shrugged and went to Elliot.

‟My kids made this for you.‟ He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to him. ‟You guys had lunch yet?‟

‟You buying?‟ Munch asked. He was already getting up.

‟Shit. A bunch of freeloaders.‟ Toby rubbed his face. ‟Okay. This once, but never again.‟

‟That‛s what ya said last time.‟ Fin got his coat.

Elliot was getting up also. ‟Did Lennon cut you loose?‟

Toby didn‛t answer until they were outside and all eating something. He noticed that Benson hadn‛t been shy about putting in her order. Hard to blame her though, the hot dogs were good at this corner. He‛d brought the kids once, but they hadn‛t seen Elliot.

‟Judge Allen asked that my parole be set aside. It was.‟

‟Congrats, Toby.‟ Elliot‛s eyes smiled. Toby wanted to spend an hour or so doing nothing but kissing them. Elliot edged closer. ‟You okay?‟

‟Fine. Been busy.‟ Toby ate his hot dog. ‟Angus is out of the hospital. He‛s living in the Connecticut house.‟

‟Is he better?‟ Elliot look concerned.

‟He has learned the error of his ways. We‛ll see if it lasts.‟ Toby had hopes for his brother, but gambling was tough to beat. Angus had a long road ahead of him, and he had to walk it alone, no matter what they preached at GA.

‟The kids?‟

‟Are mine. Full custody was granted. There was a token protest, but since Angus was still in a Vegas hospital, the courts decided that I was the lesser of two evils.‟ Toby answered the next question. ‟My mother made it clear that she wasn‛t doing it.‟

‟I‛m happy for you.‟

‟Thanks. I gotta run.‟ Toby had things to get done today. ‟Are you ready?‟

Elliot frowned, hesitated, and shuffled his feet. ‟More than.‟

Toby had hoped for that answer. He spent some time blabbing with Munch before walking home. Raphael had taken Toby‛s mother shopping. Again. Toby walked faster. He wanted everything to be perfect.

*********

Elliot took the card to the locker room to open it. He wanted some privacy. It was from Toby‛s kids. There were pictures of Holly and Harry and scrawled words of thanks. A stupid smile broke out over Elliot‛s face. He sat down and flipped it to the back to make sure he hadn‛t missed anything.

Our pier - six o‛clock

Elliot nearly dropped the card. His dick twitched and he bit his lip. Nothing on earth would stop him from keeping this appointment. The afternoon hours dragged, and by five-thirty his desk was clean, and he was staring mindlessly at his screensaver.

‟Go home, Elliot.‟ Cragen stopped by Elliot‛s desk. ‟You okay?‟

‟Fine. Tired is all. Long week.‟ Elliot faked a stretch. He suddenly saw Raphael and got to his feet. Raphael spotted him and trotted over. Elliot frowned. ‟What‛s going on?‟

‟No trouble, boss.‟ Raphael grinned and tossed. ‟Delivery. Have fun.‟

Elliot caught it automatically. He stared down at the keys in his hand. ‟I‛m gonna kill him.‟

Cragen laughed and walked away. Elliot got his coat fast and practically ran to the parking lot. ‟Shit!‟

********

Toby thanked Aunt Frieda for the tenth time, warned his kids to be good for the third time, and dashed out the door before she asked any more questions. Raphael revved the engine. ‟Where to?‟

‟The pier.‟ Toby buckled. ‟Did you deliver it?‟

‟Oh, yeah.‟ Raphael grinned. ‟He looked mad as hell.‟

Toby laughed. He‛d expected that. Well, the car wasn‛t Elliot‛s so he‛d get over it. ‟My mother keeping you busy?‟

Raphael nodded. ‟She likes this car too.‟

‟This car?‟ Toby rubbed his forehead. His mother was having way too much fun for a lady her age, and he wasn‛t going to say a word. ‟You‛ll have to take Aunt Frieda home when I get back.‟

‟Got it.‟ Raphael made a fast corner, and they were there. Toby smiled. It was going to be a nice evening, and he‛d warned his aunt that he might not be home until morning. She‛d winked and smiled. Of course, she‛d tell everyone in the family and greater borough that he had a girlfriend, but it would be worth it. He waved goodbye and walked out to the end of the pier. It had all started here, and he couldn‛t say he regretted it. Nine months and his life had completely changed. In some bizarre way, he owed it all to Chris.

‟Toby, by God, this time I‛m going to push you in!‟

Toby laughed and turned to face Elliot. ‟You‛re early.‟

‟So are you.‟ Elliot waggled the keys in the air. ‟I‛m not accepting this!‟

‟It‛s not yours.‟ Toby took the keys and put them in his pocket to make his point. ‟I just thought you might like to take it out for a drive.‟

Elliot stopped. He frowned. Toby could see him shifting gears, trying to come up with a reason to still be mad. ‟You didn‛t buy the car for me?‟

Toby heard a tiny note of disappointment amid the confusion. ‟Well, I still don‛t have a license, and I‛m not sure I want one. I thought maybe you could drive me to work occasionally. Rafe is busy with Mother.‟

‟Really?‟ Elliot was still frowning. ‟It‛s yours?‟

‟Did you check the papers in the glovebox? It‛s mine. IAB would be all over you. However, there‛s no reason why you can‛t borrow it from me occasionally.‟ Toby grinned. ‟You‛d have to ask nicely though.‟

‟I should cuff you, throw you in the trunk, and keep you there!‟ Elliot growled.

Toby looked out over the water. He was waiting for Elliot to process all the information. It was coming.

‟Where do you work now?‟ Elliot was biting the inside of his lip.

Toby wanted to kiss that lip. ‟SVU Manhattan had a position come open. Cragen thought I was the most qualified.‟

Elliot grabbed him, grinned, and then hugged him. ‟Really?‟

‟Man, I wish the guys could see this!‟ Toby‛s voice was muffled by Elliot‛s neck. ‟Really. I start Monday. Drive me?‟

‟Sure.‟ Elliot dug in Toby‛s pocket. ‟I should keep the keys.‟

‟I thought you might want to.‟ Toby laughed. He pushed away and looked out over the water. ‟Our ship‛s coming in.‟

‟I thought you sold her for scrap.‟ Elliot looked also.

‟Nah. You liked her too much.‟ Toby waved, and the blast of the horn drifted to them. They watched her come in together. She bumped gently against the pier and the captain lowered the plank.

Elliot gripped Toby‛s forearm tightly. ‟Are you ready?‟

Toby thought he was. ‟Yes. But let‛s not forget him, okay?‟

‟We won‛t. He‛d love that car.‟ Elliot looked back at it. ‟Cherry red?‟

‟I think it‛s called Mamba Red or something stupid like that.‟ Toby started to get aboard. ‟Ask Rafe. He picked it out.‟

‟He‛s my new best friend.‟ Elliot waggled his eyebrows.

‟Oh, shut up.‟ Toby shook his captain‛s hand. ‟She looks great, Captain.‟

‟She‛s shipshape and bristol fashion. Welcome aboard. Dinner is in twenty minutes. Same route as last time?‟

Toby looked Elliot. Elliot nodded. ‟Sounds fine. Can I waterski behind this tub?‟

‟You did bring the cement shoes, right, Captain?‟

The captain nodded. ‟I did, sir.‟

Toby laughed and went to the front. Elliot was right behind him. The wind was up, the water shined in the fading light, and the city was starting to turn on her lights and show off. Toby took a deep breath. ‟I‛m free.‟

Elliot put his hand on Toby‛s shoulder. ‟Well, except for the bills, the kids, the job, and Aunt Frieda, who I suspect is Satan with a handbag.‟

Toby lowered his head and laughed. Aunt Frieda was hell on earth, but she was good with the kids, and that counted for a lot. She‛d gone to Mass with them last week and he‛d never seen Father Michael so glad to be walking away. Elliot had probably been lurking. He did that, and Toby was smart enough to admit that he liked it. ‟And you. Right?‟

Elliot pulled out his cuffs and flipped them. ‟Right.‟

Toby put his hand on Elliot‛s wrist. ‟Later. Have I shown you the master bedroom yet?‟

‟There‛s a bedroom?‟

‟Yes. Now that my lady is going to call New York home, I‛ll be taking the kids out occasionally. They have a bedroom as well. Maybe next time you can bring the twins.‟ Toby eased closer. He wanted to kiss him.

‟We should have our office Christmas party here. Might be fun for a change.‟ Elliot‛s eyes were sparkling.

Toby kissed him. Elliot didn‛t pull away. He dragged him deeper into it. Fuck. Toby had everything he wanted right in his arms.

*********

Elliot stopped in surprise. His tour wasn‛t over, but he‛d seen enough hardwood and lush carpeting. This was important. ‟A jacuzzi?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby shrugged. ‟Why?‟

‟That‛s it. I‛m getting naked.‟ Elliot loosened his tie. ‟I may drown from all the crab we ate, but I‛ll die happy.‟

‟I‛ll save you.‟ Toby started the water. ‟Yachts are supposed to be luxurious. Get it now?‟

‟I‛m a cop.‟ Elliot thought it wouldn‛t hurt to mention it again. He almost laughed at the rolled eyes that he received in return. The tie hit Toby in the chest. ‟Do I have to cuff you to get you in with me?‟

‟Could be fun, but they might rust.‟ Toby started on his buttons. Elliot turned on the jets, got everything off, and slid in the water. It felt very good, and after this week, he needed it. Toby slipped in behind him and rubbed his back. ‟Tough week?‟

‟I had to file and everything,‟ Elliot whined. He gasped when Toby hit that perpetually sore spot. Rotating his neck, he tried to relax. It was hard with a very stiff dick. Groaning, now that was easy. Toby prodded him in the lower back. Elliot looked over his shoulder. ‟Problem?‟

Toby kissed him. ‟I hate to get the water dirty immediately.‟

Elliot smiled. He turned in the swirling water and slid his hand down Toby‛s dick to the root. ‟You could lick it off me.‟ He laughed when Toby gave a small gasp and licked his lips. Toby moved so their dicks rubbed together. Elliot pulled him tight. They moved and kissed, and Elliot kept his hands firmly on Toby‛s ass, grinding. Toby squirmed and bit him hard on the shoulder. Elliot shook and emptied himself. Toby‛s dick pulsed and did the same.

‟Oh, fuck,‟ Toby whispered.

Elliot agreed that it had been too fast. He moaned and found Toby‛s mouth again. It was Toby that finally pulled away. He pulled the plug, and Elliot stood with a small quiver. More was what he wanted and right now. No waiting. He grabbed a towel and dried off. Toby did the same. They didn‛t talk, and Toby‛s eyes burned hot blue. Elliot dropped his towel and hooked his thumb at the bed. Toby beat him there. They laughed and tussled. It wasn‛t gentle or easy this time. It was rough; full of bites, slaps, and grips that might leave a bruise.

‟Stop!‟

Elliot stopped. Immediately. He took his hands off Toby‛s ass and his mouth away also. ‟Okay.‟

Toby breathed hard, sat up, and tilted his head to the side. ‟It‛s that easy?‟

‟Of course.‟ Elliot ached for more, but if they were done, they were done. No questions asked or needed. ‟No more?‟ His dick leaked pre-cum.

‟I think I was testing you.‟ Toby gripped his hard dick. ‟You‛re very intense.‟

‟I want you, but we can stop.‟ Elliot didn‛t quite understand, and he thought he should. ‟Or is this about Chris? Didn‛t he stop?‟

Toby narrowed his eyes. ‟He always thought I was joking.‟

Elliot sat on his ass. They did need to talk about this. ‟Sorry if I was too rough.‟

‟No. I liked it. I like passion. I want to feel wanted.‟ Toby took a deep breath. ‟Was I too rough?‟

‟You‛re scrawny.‟ Elliot grinned. He crept back up the length of Toby‛s body, kissing his way, and this time with no roughness. Toby groaned and grabbed him. Elliot raised his head from the spot he‛d been licking. ‟More?‟

‟Definitely.‟ Toby curled his fingers into him. Elliot didn‛t rush. He stroked and rubbed. Toby pointed at the top dresser drawer and rolled over after a small push. Elliot didn‛t question the decision, but he thought his heart might burst from his chest. He rolled on the condom and throttled down his raging desire. Two seconds later, that all flew out the yacht porthole.

‟Hard. Do it hard.‟ Toby‛s hands clenched into the bedspread.

Elliot discovered that he couldn‛t talk. There was a huge lump in his throat, and he wasn‛t sure he was breathing. He pushed, groaned, and kissed the back of Toby‛s neck. There were no words he could utter that would do the moment justice. He shuddered and had to go faster. Toby cried out and reached back to wrap his hand around Elliot‛s neck.

Every muscle in Elliot‛s body seemed to pop, and he came. It didn‛t want to end, and he could hear his heart pounding. He made sure not to fall down, but he could feel his arms quivering. ‟Sweet Mary, Mother of God.‟

Toby pulled him down and to the side. They lay together, panting. Elliot reached and squeezed out the last of Toby‛s come. Toby squirmed and moaned. ‟I‛m dead here.‟

‟I‛m more dead.‟ Elliot let his eyes shut. He needed a minute or eight hours. When he felt Toby ease away, he got up also, even though he didn‛t want to. Cleaning up took only a minute, and he crashed onto the bed. Toby adjusted him and the covers, and he smiled. ‟Toby, I like your boat.‟

Toby crawled under the covers and curled up on and next to him. ‟I love you, Elliot.‟

Elliot kissed him. Sleep tugged at him, and he let it come.

*********

‟You working this weekend?‟

Elliot wasn‛t sure he was awake. ‟What time is it?‟

‟About six in the morning. We‛re docked at our pier.‟ Toby patted Elliot‛s face. ‟Work?‟

‟Uh, no. Why?‟

‟I‛ll go get the kids. You can sleep.‟ Toby kissed him. ‟Later, you can get yours, if you want.‟

‟A weekend on a boat. Sounds fun. Grab me some clothes, will ya?‟ Elliot yawned. He didn‛t look awake.

Toby smiled and stroked his hand through Elliot‛s hair. He loved this man so much. They were going to have a life together. They were. ‟Do you love me enough?‟

Elliot‛s eyes snapped open. ‟Enough to last a lifetime?‟

‟No. More than that.‟ Toby needed it all, but he couldn‛t explain it, and he watched Elliot ponder the question.

‟Enough.‟ Elliot kissed him and rolled over to go back to sleep. ‟Get some donuts too.‟

Toby slapped him on the ass and went upstairs. The sun was teasing the night away, and he could see Raphael and Old Blue parked next to Elliot‛s red. Instead of disembarking, he looked up at the morning star. When he got to heaven, he‛d probably have some explaining to do, but he wasn‛t exactly worried.

‟Chris, I love him, okay?‟

No answer blew in, but Toby shut his eyes, listened to the world around him, and thought he heard the sound of boys laughing, playing in the summer sun. It was enough. He smiled and went to get his kids.

*********  
End


End file.
